


A Grim Encounter

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Rewrite, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After blowing up Aunt Marge, Harry runs away from Privet Drive.  Instead of ending up at the Leaky Cauldron, the thought that a certain bushy-haired friend would know what to do (and a chance encounter with a certain black dog!) leads Harry to making a different decision that alters his third year at Hogwarts entirely. POA rewrite. Harmony. As of 1/26/2021, there will be no further updates. Sorry for those who have enjoyed this story.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 83
Kudos: 317





	1. Padfoot and Grim

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter and the Wizarding World.**

**This story pick up from the end of Chapter 2 of _Prisoner of Azkaban._**

* * *

Harry carried his trunk and Hedwig's cage as far as he could before finally dropping them and doubling over, the stitch in his side starting to become more than he could handle. After a few minutes of panting and catching his breath, he looked around to find himself near the local park on Magnolia Crescent, several blocks from Privet Drive. He made his way over to a park bench and plopped down roughly.

 _Of course this had to happen_ , Harry began thinking angrily. _If I could have made it one more night, then I wouldn't be sitting out here like a delinquent._ He could feel his heart still pumping rapidly in his chest as his mind caught up to his body and the gravity of his situation settled in.

He had just committed underage magic. According to the Ministry, this would be the second occurrence, which most likely meant expulsion from Hogwarts and the snapping of his wand. He would never be allowed to perform magic again. There would be nothing to take him away from the Dursleys, and he was absolutely helpless to stop it.

He could already see the disappointed look on Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore's faces. Hagrid would be crying and blowing his nose on a tablecloth-sized handkerchief. He saw Mrs. Weasley grabbing the end of the same handkerchief and blowing her own nose. Ron and his brothers would be raising a row to try and get him reinstated. And Hermione…

His head shot up. Hermione! She would know how to fix this. He could already see her in his mind's eye running about with a book in each hand about wizarding law, reading them both simultaneously while fussing at him to hurry up and read the book she would have given him to study. She would then roll her eyes after explaining the law to him for the umpteenth time before smiling and wrapping her arms around him and-

Harry blinked his eyes a couple of times. _Where had that thought come from?_

Coming back to reality, he turned his head to check his surroundings. There was only one streetlight in the park currently working, and the yellowish glow it emitted was fairly weak, creating a cascade of odd, spooky shadows. He gulped. Suddenly, he wished that he wasn't there alone. A strange creaking noise made him jump to his feet and glance behind him. The merry-go-round was moving slightly from the breeze, which had caused the ominous sound.

_Yes, finding Hermione would be the best thing to do right now!_

Harry walked back to his trunk and started rifling through his possessions. He placed his hands on the cloak and thought about putting it on before deciding against it. Sure, he would be invisible, but it wouldn't cover the trunk or the cage. What would some Muggle think seeing a trunk going down the street by itself? He smirked at the mental image before continuing his search.

He finally found what he was looking for between two of his class books - a piece of parchment with Hermione's phone number and home address. She had written the information down while returning on the Hogwarts Express last year and gave it to him, inviting him to visit if he could ever get his relatives to agree. He remembered how he laughed inwardly at the idea of the Dursleys taking him anywhere he _wanted_ to go before accepting the note with a grin and giving his own number back to her.

He reflected for a moment, finding it odd that she had not called to speak to him that summer when Ron had made the point to do so, especially since she actually knew how to use a phone. _Then again_ , Harry thought, _perhaps after hearing about Ron's failed attempt, it was better that she not be forced to deal with Uncle Vernon's harsh tone_. A scowl crossed his face at the thought of his uncle berating Hermione over the phone and he could feel some of his anger return.

Harry closed his trunk and stood upright, placing his hands on his back and stretching after being stooped over for so long. He had a plan - now he needed to find a way to get in touch with Hermione. It would be best to get to the closest pay phone, which was another couple of blocks away. Sighing, he grabbed the end of his trunk and started walking.

He wasn't sure when he first noticed, but it felt and sounded like someone - or _something_ \- was following him. Every time he stopped and checked, the soft noise would stop and there would be nothing there. Each time he began walking again, that noise would return. It certainly didn't help that in the dark, the shadows of the houses he passed all appeared to be hiding some horror that was just out of sight. He quickened his pace as the petrol station came into view.

He quietly snuck around to the back of the building and hid his trunk and cage behind the trash bin in an alley before crossing to the telephone box. He picked up the receiver to dial Hermione when he realized two things. The first was that he had no Muggle money on him and would be unable to call. The second was that Hermione, like Ron and his family, was currently on holiday and not at home. Dejectedly, Harry dropped the receiver back on its handle and went back to his trunk.

Once he sat down, Harry, or rather his stomach, made another realization: he was starving. The overpowering smell wafting from a nearby takeaway only caused his hunger pains to deepen. His lack of money meant he really only had one viable option. Harry looked around before reaching into the dumpster and pulling out a bag of trash and gingerly opening it. Fortunately for him, the bag must have recently been dropped in as there were no particularly foul smells coming out. He found a partially-full bag of crisps and - his eyes widened - an whole burger still in its wrapping. He opened the wrapping and inspected it carefully to make sure its previous owner hadn't spat on it or otherwise poisoned it. Lightly reassured after looking, Harry took a small bite and chewed multiple times before swallowing. Feeling more confident, he finally started eating - it was really quite delicious, despite where he had to go to retrieve it. His spirits lifted somewhat as he ate and satisfied some of his hunger.

Approaching steps caused his mood to drop rapidly. He tucked himself as close as he could to the bin, wishing that he would have had the foresight to cover himself with his invisibility cloak while eating.

Around the corner of the bin, a dog appeared. Well, it _looked_ like a dog, at least. The creature was very big - much bigger than any other dog Harry had ever seen - and was covered in shaggy black fur. It also had large, dark, threatening eyes. Harry held his breath as it moved closer, staring directly at him. It felt like the eyes could see straight into his soul. An impulse told Harry to throw the burger or to kick at the dog, but his fear kept him from responding.

The dog crept slowly in a stalking manner, each movement of its paws carefully placed. Now its head was only inches away from Harry's face.

"N-n-nice d-doggy," Harry managed to whisper, afraid to make a louder sound, not daring to make any motion that could be considered an attack.

The dog's eyes finally broke his stare with Harry, rising to his forehead. Its cold, wet nose brushed the fringe of Harry's hair. A sense of dread poured down Harry's spine like ice water…

And then the dog licked his face and promptly sat down next to him and started panting, still looking at him.

The sudden change in demeanor only caused Harry to feel more confused. He tentatively and carefully raised his arm. He remembered seeing on a cartoon that Dudley watched that when approaching a strange dog you should hold your hand palm up at a level below the dog's head. Once it smelled your hand, then you might be able to pet it. Harry wasn't sure if the information was true, or even why he would want to pet this creature, but a feeling in his gut told him to try it.

The dog watched his hand draw closer, then sniffed it. For a moment, Harry thought about jerking his hand back in case the dog were to bite him. He was glad he didn't - the dog lowered its head under his hand and lifted it up, indirectly causing Harry to pet him. He heard a strange whimper from the dog as it looked at him expectantly.

Unsure of its meaning, Harry found his voice. "What is it, boy? Do you like being petted?" The dog nodded its head and again pushed it into Harry's hand. Harry laughed nervously and felt his body relaxed a little as he began petting the dog. Harry froze and pulled his hand back as he heard a rumble emanating from the dog. It was when the dog looked at his burger and back at him that he made the connection.

"Oh - are you hungry too?" He ripped the burger in half and held it out in front of him. The dog carefully grabbed the burger from his fingers and dropped it on the ground, where it then started devouring it in earnest. For the first time in several hours, Harry felt better.

A cracking sound in the distance changed everything. The dog lifted his head and turned its attention to the noise, its body taut as if preparing to strike. Harry stopped eating his crisps as he listened. He could hear faint voices getting closer, their conversation becoming clearer.

"Did you see that blimp back there? Crikey, I thought they'd never get her shrunk!"

"Yeah, yeah, that was something… any sign of the Potter boy?"

Harry winced at the sound of his name. A thought sprang to his mind, and he acted on it. Pulling his trunk to the wall behind the bin, he opened it and yanked his cloak out. In the process, his cloak caused an empty potion vial to fly in the air before shattering a few feet away.

"Hold up - did you hear that?"

Harry didn't wait - he closed his trunk as fast and as softly as he could and sat on it before throwing the cloak over himself and the trunk. He gave a sigh of relief before his eyes saw Hedwig's cage in front of him. It was too late, he knew it - there were now sounds of boots running close to his location.

The dog, who still had not moved, then did something peculiar: he ran and grabbed the top of the cage with his mouth and dragged it over to Harry's position, where he swiftly tossed the cloak over it. Only a moment later, two people in red robes turned the corner and looked directly at where Harry was sitting. He held his breath - to him, it was as loud as a bin lorry.

Harry focused on the two wizards - surely they were wizards with the robes - as they scanned the alleyway. A growl to Harry's right made both of the men jump and pull their wands. Somehow, the wizards had not seen the dog, which was now back in its striking position, appearing even larger and more fierce than before.

To Harry's amazement, the wizards both turned pale and started shaking after seeing the dog. It started prowling toward them, its teeth bared in a snarl. Without hesitation, both wizards turned on the spot and disappeared with that same loud _crack_ he heard earlier.

Harry took a few minutes to process what he had just witnessed. He had never seen someone vanish like that. Oddly enough, it was their reaction to the dog that puzzled him more. _It's almost like they had seen a ghost_ , he thought to himself. _Well, if a Muggle had seen a ghost_.

He heard a whimper by his side and felt the dog rub his head against his leg. Harry pulled off his cloak and began petting the dog again with a little more affection than before. "Thanks boy! You saved me back there." The dog looked up at him and closed one eye. Harry smiled back. _How cute! The dog just winked at me,_ he thought. _Hang on… can dogs wink?_

As Harry reflected on the strange reactions of the dog - winking, nodding as if it understood him, knowing to hide the cage from those wizards, the reaction of the wizards to its appearance, looking at his forehead - it was evident that this dog must be… _magical_ , in some way.

The dog ( _who really needs a name_ , Harry thought to himself) then grabbed the sleeve of his jumper and started pulling. Harry rose to his feet and raised an eyebrow. "What now, boy?" The dog's eyes flickered to his trunk and back to him before he grabbed the top of the cage and started walking out of the alley. Catching the unverbal message, Harry took the end of his trunk and started following the dog. They crossed the street quickly, the dog pausing briefly for one lone vehicle to pass before doing so, and entered a small copse of trees. Harry found a space just on the other side of some bushes before the same cracking sound rent the air as before. However, this time there were multiple _cracks_.

Their secluded position with the trees and bushes around them allowed Harry to see the arrival of four wizards without being observed. Harry recognized the two that had disappeared before were back with reinforcements. He chuckled softly to himself as the two new wizards - clearly superiors of the originals - strode into the alley confidently while the other two stood back and waited. Eventually the new wizards came back and admonished the other two - it was hard to hear their voices from this distance, but Harry definitely heard the words "cowards" and "keep an eye out." Then, wands drawn but down at their sides, the four made their way down the street, apparently searching for him.

"Well boy, looks like we're safe for now." Harry looked down to pet his new friend before discovering that the dog was no longer there. A cursory glance around made it seem like the dog had disappeared just as the wizards had done before, minus the _crack_.

At a loss, Harry sat down on his trunk and began evaluating his situation. The wizards had confirmed that Aunt Marge was no longer blown up like a balloon and that they were on a search for him. Neither bit of news was that good to him. He no longer had an empty belly, but he did not have a plan or a place to go. A thought passed through his mind that he should try to go to the Leaky Cauldron or to Hogwarts for shelter. He quickly dismissed it - he might be able to get a cab to London, but he wouldn't have any way to pay the fare. Nor could he spend a night at a hotel. He could try to write a letter, but without Hedwig, he'd have no way to send it. He _could_ spend the night here in the woods, but he had no blanket or covering in case it rained. To emphasize that point, a chilly fog began creeping up from a nearby pond. Harry leaned over and placed his head in his hands. _If only Hermione were here_ …

He heard something pass through the foliage behind him. Harry lifted his head and shifted on the trunk, hopeful that the dog had returned to keep him company. When he saw what had made the noise, he froze again.

It was not a dog, but a man standing there. His clothes were old and threadbare in places, ripped in others. He had long, dark hair that was mangled and knotted and a beard that was unkempt and straggly. His face was sunken slightly, appearing almost skeletal, the skin tight against his bones. His eyes… they were grey in color and almost lifeless. If Harry hadn't heard the man's chest moving, he would have thought he was a zombie.

The man started speaking. His voice sounded raspy, as if it hadn't been used in years.

"Don't be afraid… I'm not here to hurt you."

Harry heard the words, but he did not believe them. He jumped to his feet and pulled his wand from his pocket. He held it around his waist, ready to defend himself. He tensed as the man started laughing, then coughing. It was clear he hadn't done that in years either. Once his fit subsided, the man smiled, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth, and raised his hands in front of him in a submissive manner.

"I don't blame you, Harry. Not one bit. It's good to protect yourself. I do promise that I won't hurt you."

Harry plucked up enough courage to respond. "How do you know who I am? And how can I trust you when I don't even know who you are?"

The man tilted his head to the side a little bit and frowned. "Who I am? You mean, you don't recognize me?" Harry shook his head, refusing to even blink.

This genuinely seemed to puzzle the man, who paused before responding. "My friends…

well, my old friends, used to call me Grim." Harry could see a thought pass before the man's eyes. "I believe you met my dog earlier."

Harry squinted at him quizzically. "The dog belongs to you?"

Grim smiled again. "Yes."

"What's its name?"

"Huh? Oh, um… I call him… Padfoot. Yes, that's his name."

Once again, he appeared to be ready for a reaction from Harry after speaking. When Harry remained still, Grim pointed his fingers toward the trunk. "Is it alright if we have a seat and talk?"

Harry's flight response told him to throw a hex at the man and to start running. However, considering that Padfoot had saved him shortly beforehand, Grim may be able to help him. Despite having just met him, Harry decided to give him a chance. _Besides_ , he thought humourlessly, _what have I got to lose? Things surely can't get any worse than being on the run from the Ministry..._

Harry lowered his wand and sat at the far end of the trunk, allowing Grim to sit at the other. There was an awkward silence as the two sized each other up.

"So," Harry began, "how do you know my name?"

"Harry, everyone in the Wizarding World knows who you are." Grim gestured to his forehead with a smirk. Harry sighed. Of course that was why he knew his name. "Padfoot was the one who told me about your scar, though."

"You can talk to dogs?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think. _Considering I can talk to snakes, I guess that wouldn't be so hard to believe..._

"No, not really… But, you could say Padfoot and I share the same brain!" Grim let out a harsh laugh that sounded almost like a bark. Harry was beginning to regret his decision to stay instead of run, but he remained seated, though slightly more on edge.

Grim looked at Harry closely. "You know, you look just like your father. You have your mother's eyes though. And her disposition, if I'm not misreading you. I know we've just met, but -"

Harry's back became straight as a rod. "You knew my parents?"

A hint of sadness crossed Grim's face. "Yes, I knew James and Lily very well. James was… like a brother to me. The day they died… I felt like a bit of myself died with them." For the first time, Grim turned his face away from Harry. He looked down at his tattered boots, his big toe sticking out in a large hole.

Harry wasn't sure whether he would say anything more about his parents even if asked, so he decided to find out more about him. "May I ask why you… um…"

"Look like a homeless beggar?" Grim offered to Harry's embarrassment. He gave a half-smile. "I didn't always look like this. In fact, I used to be an Auror." Harry's face remained blank. "Essentially a Wizard policeman. Padfoot mentioned you almost got caught by some tonight?"

Harry's face lit up, making the connection between the word and the red-clad wizards that almost caught him. "They fight dark wizards, help keep the peace, catch criminals." Harry paled slightly at the unsaid implication. Grim, missing his reaction, continued on. "Your father was an Auror too. We used to be partners as well as friends, until…" His voice lost volume as he finished speaking. Harry almost reached over to pat Grim on the back, but kept his hand in his lap.

"After that, I… went a little mad and… got into some trouble. They took my wand... and locked me away."

"Locked you away? Like, in jail?" Harry felt like there was a troll-sized clue about to bash him in the face that he just wasn't able to place.

"Yes. Azkaban, the wizard prison. Terrible place. The guards... Take the worst nightmare you've ever had and multiply it by ten. That's how it felt." Harry shivered at the thought.

Grim didn't fail to notice. "Sorry, Harry, I was so busy thinking about the past that I forgot about your predicament. Can you tell me why you're out so late tonight?" The sympathy in his voice seemed real, so Harry recounted the last few days starting with Marge's arrival. When he mentioned blowing up Aunt Marge and escaping his uncle's house, Grim gave his widest smile yet. "That sounds more like James there!" he interrupted. After that, he sat and listened quietly to the rest of the story - the corners of his mouth twitched when Harry mentioned putting a wand in Uncle Vernon's face, then promptly dropped as Harry mentioned the apparent manhunt to catch him and his worries about being expelled and having his wand snapped. After he finished, Harry could feel some of the weight lifted from his shoulders after talking to someone about his problems. Then he shivered again when a breeze passed through the woods. Grim raised his arm as if to wrap it around him, then lowered it.

"So… you're on the run from the Ministry. Heh, sounds like we have something in common."

It took Harry a moment to process the meaning of that statement, but Grim carried on before he could respond. "This friend of yours… where do you say she lives?" Harry pulled out the piece of parchment with Hermione's number and address. Grim studied it briefly before glancing at Harry's face. There was a hint of mischief in those dark eyes. "You mean to tell me that a _girl_ ," his eyebrows rose as he emphasized the word, "gave you _her number_ … and you haven't called her?"

Harry blushed a little. "She's my best friend… I don't think she thinks about me that way." Harry didn't realize he had said the second part out loud until Grim clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.

"Have you asked her how she feels?" Harry's blush got darker as he turned his head away. Grim chose to not push the issue any further. "The good news is that I happen to know a park near her house where we can go. Are you ready to see her?"

"I told you, she's not at home," Harry responded.

"Well pup, since we both seem to be on the outs with the Ministry, her place is as good as any for us to go towards, even if _she_ (again with the eyebrows!) is not back… _yet_." It took Harry a second to realize that the term "pup" referred to him. "We can lay low together, make sure _they,_ " he gestured back toward the street, "don't find you."

Harry parsed Grim's idea, then nodded slowly in agreement. Grim stood up and turned to face Harry. He could see a hesitant look on Grim's face. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well Harry… in order for us to travel, I'll need to borrow your wand." Harry must have shown unease at the suggestion as Grim added quickly, "I promise I'll give it right back once we're done. Besides, it'll help us with your things." He pointed to Hedwig's cage and his trunk.

Harry pondered the proposal for a few seconds - he didn't completely trust the man, even if he said he knew his parents. But, he admitted to himself, he didn't really have any other options, especially if the Aurors were searching for him. Almost as on cue, they heard another set of _cracks_ as two more red-clad wizards appeared in the alleyway and began walking in the opposite direction of the four they had seen earlier. Cautiously, he held his wand out to Grim.

The man wrapped his fingers around the wand carefully like it would shock him if he moved too quickly. He started to pull it away, but Harry's hand still had a firm hold. The two locked eyes. Grim whispered, "Trust me, Harry. I gave your parents my word that I'd take care of you. I bollocksed up when they died, but now it's time for me to make good on that."

For whatever reason, this settled Harry's worries. He released his grip on the wand. Grim turned it in his hand and studied for a moment. "I can tell the wood is holly… what's the core? Dragon heartstring?"

"Phoenix feather." Without knowing why, he added, "From Professor Dumbledore's phoenix."

Grim's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Fawkes, huh? That's an impressive bird there."

Suddenly he twirled the wand in between his fingers in a well-practiced motion. Even in the dark, Harry could see the joy Grim was feeling from holding a wand. The man pointed the wand at the cage. It instantly shrunk to the size of a small book. Harry opened his trunk and placed the cage inside, then watched in amazement as Grim shrank the trunk even further, no larger than one of his own fingers. He bent down and picked up the miniature trunk and stuck it in his front pocket before looking back at Grim with a question on his face.

"How are we getting to Crawley without being seen? Surely it's miles away."

Grim flashed his yellow teeth again. "We're going to apparate there. Have you ever traveled that way?" Harry shook his head. "That's what those Aurors out there did a few minutes ago. It's not the most pleasant way to travel, but it's certainly the quickest. Grab my hand and we'll go."

Harry glanced at the filthy hand with dirt under the fingernails, another internal struggle battling in his mind. This was the point of no return…

He grabbed Grim's hand.

"Now, you might feel a little squeeze." The man turned his shoulder. Harry immediately felt like his body had been yanked by an invisible rope around his hand into a pipe no wider than his fist with his whole body following. He tried to scream but found it impossible to breathe. Was Grim tricking him? Was he about to die?

After a second or two, though it seemed like hours, Harry felt his body expand back to normal and his feet touch the ground again. A wave of nausea and dizziness smashed into him, and he promptly bent over and vomited. Grim rubbed his back reassuringly and waved his wand, vanishing the remains of his last meal. "That happens to everyone the first time. Hell, it still happens to me!" He gave his barking laugh again, which made Harry a little less embarrassed. _Hopefully,_ Harry thought, _I won't have to travel that way again_.

Once recovered, Grim handed Harry back his wand and instructed him to put his invisibility cloak back on. They then carefully made their way through the streets of Crawley, avoiding street lamps and ducking out of sight when the random car passed. Several minutes of silence went by, which Harry spent thinking about what was about to happen next. Depending on where Hermione lived, he could try to slip into her back garden and wait for her family to return. That would be a problem though if there was no fence, or if the neighbors had windows looking over into the garden. He could also just stay with Grim, wherever he would stay with…

"Padfoot!" Grim yanked his head around and shushed him - apparently he had said that louder than intended. Harry whispered, "Sorry - what about Padfoot? You left him behind!"

Grim shook his head, his eyes focused on a car stopped at an intersection behind them. "Don't worry about Padfoot, he's a… a Grim, you see. A magical dog. He always finds me."

"But... I thought _your_ name is Grim?" Harry watched nervously as momentary panic flashed on Grim's face.

"Harry… for your safety, let's just keep calling me Grim for now. There's a reason, but let's not go into it now."

To his own surprise, Harry found this answer acceptable, despite the circumstances, and so continued their stealthy sojourn.

They finally found the street where Hermione lived and proceeded to her home, which was on a corner lot. Harry gazed at the property. It was a beautiful two-story house with a large front porch and a balcony above it. The home and the others on the street were nothing like the houses on Privet Drive. There was a tall wooden fence around the back side of the house, but to Harry's disappointment the house next to it appeared to have a direct view into the back garden.

He was about to ask Grim what they should do now when he realized that there were lights on in the house. Harry pulled the cloak off to see more clearly. A shadow passed the window on the second floor before returning and standing in front of it. From his viewpoint, it looked like the person was brushing their hair. His mouth pulled back in an involuntary smile as he recognized its quite bushy nature. Hermione was home!

It took a cough for Harry to remember that Grim was still standing there. There was a knowing look in his eye that made Harry squirm just a little. "See? Aren't you glad I convinced you to travel here?" Grim used his shoulder to nudge Harry toward the door. Harry took a few steps before stopping. He had spent most of the night wishing he could get to Hermione. Now that he was almost there, his mind began racing. _What if Hermione doesn't want me to be here? What if she gets mad that I blew up my aunt and tells me she never wants to see me again? What if_ \- Harry took a step back - _her parents tell me to go away and never come back?_

Two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind. Harry tensed at the sudden contact. Grim's voice was comforting if not a little harsh from its long-term lack of use. "Harry… if she is as good a friend as you say she is, she's not going to let you leave that house tonight, even if she isn't happy with your situation. Just take a deep breath, ring that doorbell, and tell her what happened. You'll be much safer staying with her than with me." Grim squeezed his shoulders before letting go. Harry, feeling slightly more confident, turned to look up at the man.

"I take it… you'll be going on?" The question sounded dumb to his ears after saying it out loud, so Harry attempted to rephrase. "Where will you be staying?"

Grim shrugged. "I haven't gotten that far along yet, but I imagine I'll be close by. Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself," he added with a wink. "Oh, and Harry?" Harry had started to turn back towards Hermione's before looking back. "It'd probably be best if… you don't mention me to her or her family, or to anyone else for that matter. There's, uh… well, been a bit of a mix-up since I left Azkaban, and…" For the first time, Grim seemed unsure what to say.

Harry nodded. "Sure, Grim. I won't mention you. But… you'll need to tell me more about you, like who you really are, when you can. Can we meet again soon, once everything is settled?"

Harry wasn't sure what it was about his words that affected him, but Grim now appeared ready to cry. "Meet you again... I would love that, Harry."

His eyes flickered up to the house. "For now though, you need to get inside. Take your trunk out of your pocket so I can tell you how to unshrink it." Harry did as he was told, placing the trunk down on the pavement. "Now, the spell is _Finite incantatem_ \- don't worry, it just stops magic, the Trace won't pick it up." Grim showed him the wand motion, and Harry was surprised to see the trunk return to its normal size on the first attempt.

Harry dragged the trunk up the front steps onto the porch. He glanced back to tell Grim thanks, but he had disappeared, the street showing no sign of him or where he went. Now alone, Harry found himself literally standing at Hermione's front door. Doubt was creeping back into his thoughts, causing him to shake with worry. _What do I say to her?_ Harry thought. His mind was overrun with different excuses or stories he could tell her that would be better than the truth.

Unable to decide, Harry was just about to give up and walk away when a flash of fur shot past him. Padfoot rang the doorbell with his nose and then raised up on his back paws and placed his front paws on Harry's chest, nearly knocking him over. The dog winked at him before running off the porch and into the shadows. Harry stood frozen in astonishment until the porch light came on over his head. He quickly tried to straighten his clothes as best he could as the door opened. A tall man stood in the doorway. He had wide shoulders and curly, brown hair with a closely-trimmed beard. He smiled politely at Harry. "Good evening young man. Can I help you?"

Harry stammered, "Yes sir… uh… is this… I mean, are you… M-mister Granger?" Inwardly Harry kicked at himself; this was not going to be a strong first impression. To his surprise, the man's smile became warmer, almost familial.

"Yes, I have been called that before. May I ask who you are?"

Before he could begin to respond, he heard _her_ voice.

"Harry? Is that you?"

Mr. Granger stepped back from the door, allowing Harry to see into the house for the first time. At the end of the entrance hall was Hermione. Maybe it was the way the lights looked behind her, or maybe it was a glare off his glasses, but she appeared almost… angelic. Her hair was damp as if she had taken a shower, and while it had been brushed, it was still quite wild.

When she saw him, her face lit up as if a thousand fireworks had been set off. She took off running down the hall, out the door, and slammed full-force into Harry. Even seeing her coming had not prepared him, and they almost toppled down the front steps. Hermione, oblivious to their near-demise, hugged him intensely and began talking.

"Oh, Harry! How have you been? We just got home from France an hour ago! We weren't supposed to come back for another week but then Mum got an emergency surgery call in - she's an oral surgeon, I don't know if I've told you that or that she's a dentist, it's much easier to explain - and so we're back early. You should go to the beaches in France someday though, they are so lovely! I spent nearly the whole time reading on the beach, though I'm sure you could guess that with my tan."

Hermione pulled back without letting go of Harry so that she could look him in the eye. It appeared she was about to continue on about her vacation when her expression went from a smile to a frown.

"What are you doing here? How did you get here, I don't see a car or - and how would you know that we were home already? I sent your birthday gift with Hedwig, it was so lovely that she came without being asked, but I haven't seen her since and - what's wrong Harry?"

While staring at Hermione and half-listening to her, feeling her pressed up against him, Harry felt the overwhelming need to say something - _cool_. Something that would impress her, or make her laugh. When Hermione finished her last question and looked at him with concern, the last thing he expected to come out of his mouth was a sob. But that's exactly what happened. He felt hot tears well up and spill out of his eyes.

"Hermione… I… they're going to snap my wand… and expel me!" And with that, any hope of impressing her went out the window as he completely broke down. His legs gave out from under him, leaving Hermione to bear both of their weights. She struggled valiantly to keep them upright before collapsing to the porch.

Mr. Granger, who had been watching their exchange with crossed arms and a gentle smile, rushed forward and pulled Harry gently up and guided him inside the house with Hermione close behind.

* * *

**A/N: This story came about because of a conversation on Discord the week of Halloween 2020 about Harry going to Hermione for help instead of to the Leaky Cauldron after the incident with Aunt Marge and learning about Sirius much earlier than in canon. I told myself when I started writing last month that I would never attempt a long story - yet here we are.**

**The end game is a full-rewrite of _Prisoner of Azkaban_. Please don't expect daily or even weekly updates - I want to do this story right, so I'm planning for updates every two weeks or so, depending on work and family life.**

**A big shout out to Oxen from Discord - we put our heads together to develop the outline for the story, and he is serving as Alpha/ British linguist for my tale. This tale is also dedicated to Valniz, also of Discord, for a very obvious reason.**

**My plan was to have the first several chapters ready before publishing, but let's face it - It's Halloween!**

**If you have opinions on where the story should go, I will be glad to take them into consideration. Otherwise, enjoy the ride!**


	2. Meet the Grangers

**Harry Potter and the Wizarding World belongs to JK Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione stared at the dark-haired boy who was sleeping beside her. His head was lying on her thigh as she sat cross-legged on the couch, and her hands were gently running through his tousled hair. She had been silent ever since her father brought Harry into the house and directed him to the couch. He had been absolutely inconsolable, so she did the only thing she could think of: she wrapped her arms around him and let him cry. A thousand questions raced through her head as she held her best friend, but she had a feeling that Harry could not (or would not) answer them, especially with her parents around. His cries became fewer and eventually turned into light snores as his exhaustion overtook him. She continued to stroke his hair, her thoughts now wandering.

Hermione's mother was now sitting in an armchair across from her, a small frown of concern etched on her face. She had rushed in from the kitchen after hearing his crying and knelt on the floor beside the couch, checking his head and body for possible injuries. Finding none, she had followed her daughter's lead and placed her hand on Harry's side until his sobbing stopped. Her father leaned on the doorframe to the living room. Once Harry had calmed down and the two women's anxiety subsided somewhat, he had brought Harry's trunk inside and taken it up to the guest bedroom, then made a pot of tea for the three of them. He twirled the spoon in his cup as he studied his daughter. Finally, he spoke kindly.

"Hermione, do you know what's happened to Harry, or how he got here?" Hermione did not respond, her eyes still focused on Harry. Her father repeated the question slightly louder. She shook her head to signal _no_ , her gaze never wavering.

Her mother sat up a little straighter at the sound of his name. "Harry? This is Harry Potter, the boy you mention in your letters?" Hermione nodded her head again without looking up. She saw with her periphery vision her parents exchanging a look, silently communicating with one another as they so often do. Her father gave a quick nod before handing his teacup to Mrs. Granger. He left the room and headed upstairs. Mrs. Granger stepped into the kitchen with both teacups, then returned for Hermione's, which had sat untouched on the arm of the couch. She came back, sat beside her daughter, and placed her arms around her shoulders.

"Honey, he can stay here for now. We do need to get some answers from him tomorrow, when he's feeling better. Now, Hermione…" The tone of her name broke Hermione's trance, and she looked over at her mother. "I want to be crystal clear - you are not to enter his room, and he is not to be in yours. And absolutely no funny business in our house."

Hermione was already nodding her head in agreement before freezing - she had not been expecting those words from her mother, and now she was ready to defend her honor. "Mother! I - I can't believe you just said that! He's my best friend, I don't…" Hermione's words died in her throat as her mother's look grew in intensity. Hermione was known for standing her own at Hogwarts, but she knew she would not win this fight. "Yes, Mum."

Mr. Granger entered the room and instantly felt the cool tension between mother and daughter. "I take it you laid down the ground rules?" Both women's harsh glares at him confirmed his question, and he quickly continued. "I'm going to take this young man upstairs and to bed. We should probably follow suit, especially you, dear - don't want to perform surgery tomorrow with your eyes closed."

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes as he stooped down and carefully cradled Harry in his arms. In one swift motion, Mr. Granger lifted him and proceeded up the stairs to the guest room. He carried Harry to the bed, where he had just been to pull back the sheets, and placed him gently down. He slid his shoes off and placed them at the foot of the bed, then covered Harry with the sheets and turned off the bedside lamp. As he left the room, he picked up the worn shoes and inspected them with disdain. He took the shoes with him as he shut the guest room door before peeking in his daughter's room across the hall.

Hermione was now sitting on her bed, her feet hanging off the side. She looked at him expectantly and with some worry, like a spouse would when waiting to hear news from a surgeon after a procedure. Mr. Granger sat next to her. "He's alright, Pumpkin. Let him sleep for a few hours and then you can catch up with him in the morning." He placed a kiss on her forehead and left the room with the shoes, pulling the door closed behind him.

Hermione sighed loudly and fell back on her bed, trying to hold back her own tears. In the two years she had been Harry's friend, she had never seen him fall apart like that. In fact, she had never seen him cry at all. What made it exponentially worse was that it felt like - it seemed - _she_ had been the reason for the breakdown. "Was it something I said?" she whimpered to herself. She felt at a loss at what her friend was going through. Obviously something had gone wrong for him. _But then,_ she thought, _when have things ever gone right for Harry?_ Refusing to ponder it further, all Hermione wanted to do now was hold Harry, like she did downstairs, or at least hold his hand.

Her mother's words rang in her ears, which made her angry and frustrated. _Funny business? With Harry? How dare she insinuate such a preposterous idea!_ She got up from her bed and crept to the door. If she snuck in there right now, maybe she could at least squeeze his hand or give him a kiss on the cheek…

Hermione froze, her hand an inch away from the doorknob. _Did I just really think about kissing Harry?_ She stood still a few seconds more before shaking her head. She glanced at the clock and started planning. If she waited another thirty minutes or so, her parents would most likely be asleep, and she could sneak into his room then and check on him.

The part of her mind that she considered the "rational conscience" then chimed in: _Do you really want to disobey your parents and risk them sending Harry away?_

 _They wouldn't do that! They're reasonable people!_ Hermione mentally shouted back.

_So why didn't you tell them about being Petrified last year? Or the troll the year before that? Or how Harry had to face You-Know-Who?_

Hermione didn't have an answer to that. She paced back and forth around her room for a minute when a new idea popped up. She nodded her head to herself. Yes, that should work.

* * *

_Harry ran as fast as he could through the Chamber, the basilisk gaining on him every second. He attempted to cast a spell behind him, but his wand slipped out of his hand and vanished into the gloom. Spotting a small crack in the wall, he threw himself through it, hoping the basilisk could not follow because of its size. As he landed, he felt something soft under his body._

_He stood up and looked around. He was no longer in the Chamber but in the Forbidden Forest. An evil cackle made him jerk his head to the left, and his blood curdled. The view was it was in the Forest his first year. A cloaked figure - Voldemort! - was bent over a unicorn, shiny silver blood dripping out of its neck. The evil wizard stopped drinking the blood and rose silently to his feet. Looking at Harry, he stepped over the unicorn and moved toward him. Harry backed away, refusing to tear his eyes away. Voldemort loomed over Harry, taller than he could remember. A soft voice whispered_ , it's just a dream. Wake up Harry. _However,_ _Harry was too mortified and in fear to respond._

_Just as Voldemort was within striking distance, Harry looked past him. Now, instead of a unicorn laying on the forest floor was the broken and bloodied body of Hermione, her eyes open and her face frozen in fear, just as she appeared in the hospital wing. Harry's heart stopped._

_Voldemort stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Hermione, the red eyes glowing as he raised his wand and -_

Harry set up straight in bed, his lungs burning, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes still searching for Voldemort. It took him a moment to realize that it was all a nightmare. Then he realized that he was not in his tiny, cramped room on Privet Drive, nor his four-poster at Hogwarts, nor anywhere else he could ever remember being or seeing in his life. His panic went into overdrive.

He jumped out of bed. His eyes darted in every direction, searching for some kind of clue to where he was or how to get out. The room was dark, save for the light from a streetlamp streaming through the window. Still finding nothing familiar, he yanked his wand from his pocket and shot to the door. He opened it and was about to run down the hall when he saw a body on the floor next to his door. He held his breath as he looked closer. It was Hermione. He sighed in relief as he saw her chest rise. She was okay.

She was curled up fast asleep, her back to the wall, her knees tucked inside her maroon dressing gown up to her chest, her head resting on her arm. She was shivering slightly, but her eyes were closed and her face was peaceful. A damp strand of her unruly hair lay over her top lip, like a peculiar mustache. Harry knelt down beside her. Looking at her, he suddenly remembered the only other time he had ever seen her asleep.

It had been in the common room last year before Christmas. Harry and Ron were playing a game of Wizard Chess while Hermione had been working on her schoolwork late into the night. A small thud had gotten his attention, and he turned from his lounge chair to see Hermione with her head sideways on the table, her quill still in her hand as if she would keep writing in her sleep. Harry had to shake her gently and tell her to go up to her dorm.

He didn't notice it then, but now that Harry was so close, he couldn't help but think to himself, _My goodness, she's pretty_. He pulled the loose strand of hair off her face and tried to tuck it behind her ear.

Hermione shuddered suddenly, bringing Harry back to reality - he was at Hermione's house. She was safe but sleeping on the floor outside of his room. And... he had just thought to himself how pretty she was.

Shaking that aside, he considered trying to pick her up and carry her back to her bed, but he didn't want to risk waking Hermione and making her grouchy. But he couldn't leave her freezing on the floor. A thought passed his mind, and he sprung into action. Rising back up, Harry went to his bed and grabbed the pillow and one of the blankets. He returned to the hallway and covered her, then _carefully_ lifted her head just enough to slide the pillow underneath it and lowered it back down.

An unconscious smile passed her lips, causing Harry to grin himself. She murmured unintelligible words before placing her hands on the pillow. Harry held his breath as she shifted her position. Once he determined she was still asleep, he stepped back into his room, closed the door, and turned on the light.

It was about five in the morning - still early, yet really too late to go back to sleep. Harry decided that now was as good a time as any to get ready for the day. He grabbed some clothes and stepped back in the hall. He found that the next door down contained the bathroom. Harry took his time in the hot shower, reveling in the fact that Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia wouldn't be beating on the door after two minutes telling him to hurry up. After returning his soiled clothes to his room, Harry turned off the light and softly made his way downstairs to look around Hermione's home.

The bottom of the stairs led directly into the living room, which was neat, yet obviously lived in, a stark contrast to Privet Drive. On the wall behind the couch were many family photos and several solo pictures of Hermione at various ages. He studied each in turn before one caught his eye.

Hermione must have been no older than four or five. She was wearing a pair of overall shorts with a yellow shirt underneath, and her hair was quite possibly longer and more unruly than he had ever seen it. In her arms was a giant stuffed horse, its fluffy fur bright pink. Her arms were wrapped tight around its midsection, causing the horse to have a ridiculously tiny waist and overstuffed top and bottom. As he looked closer, he saw that the horse had a horn sticking out above its eyes.

 _Oh, not a horse - a unicorn_ , Harry observed.

After inspecting the rest of the pictures, Harry made his way down a darkened hall. His memory caught up with him as he saw the front door; he was standing in the hall where he had seen Hermione the night before. He grimaced to himself as he recalled his crying fit - he didn't even introduce himself to Hermione's parents, yet they took him in and apparently put him in bed. _At least,_ Harry thought, _I'd assume they did. Hermione wouldn't have gotten me up the stairs without a levitation charm_. He chuckled at the mental image of Hermione throwing him over her little shoulder in a fireman's carry and boldly stomping up the stairs.

He walked back to the living room and turned to the next one - the kitchen, complete with a dining area separated from the stove and refrigerator by a large counter. There were an assortment of pots and pans hung by their handles over the counter.

Harry checked the time on the oven and made a decision. He hadn't made a good impression when he showed up on their doorstep, but now he could use one of his skills to improve his standing with Hermione's parents. He opened the fridge and began surveying the options in front of him.

* * *

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. It took a moment to register why she was on the floor before feeling the pillow under her head and the blanket covering her. She breathed in and found a heavenly aroma flooding her nose. She lifted her upper body and arched her back like a cat, arms over her head, hands balled up in tiny fists.

Pausing in mid-stretch, she glanced toward her parent's bedroom with alarm. She had hoped to wake up before them and slip back into her room so she wouldn't be caught and chastised, even though she hadn't broken any rules. Judging from the pillow and blankets she didn't have when she fell asleep and the smell of breakfast cooking, they had already gotten up. However, she knew that they normally left the bedroom door open after they did that; the door was still closed. The smell of breakfast wafting up from the kitchen just added to the unusual situation. _Maybe I got the blanket and pillow myself in my sleep_ , she thought. _There's still time to cover my tracks._

Hermione stood up swiftly and grabbed the blanket and pillow from the floor. She opened her bedroom door quietly, tossed both items in, wrapped herself in a bathrobe, and pulled the door closed without making a sound. She started to head downstairs when she finally noticed another very obvious change during the night - Harry's door was wide open, and his bed was empty. It was also missing a pillow and a blanket.

Before Hermione could think further, the door to her parents' room opened. Mr. Granger stepped out in the hall in his pajamas and a red bathrobe. His eyes flicked from Hermione to the open guest room door in front of her. He waited until after he was hugging his daughter before asking, "How was your night sleeping on the floor, Pumpkin?"

Hermione thankfully had her face hidden from his view, otherwise he would have noticed her sudden resemblance to a stop sign. She hoped to herself that he was at least not angry for not being in her room; his mirthful grin confirmed that when they separated. "It was fine Daddy," she said quickly, "I did exactly as I was asked - I did not go in his room or vice-versa-"

"And no funny business?" Her mother's interrupting question was more joking than accusatory, yet it still made Hermione visibly wince, even though she wasn't guilty of the implied offense. Her father remained stoic, but she could see the laughter in his eyes as Mrs. Granger wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"No, Mum, no _funny business,_ " Hermione responded in a flat, defiant tone.

Mrs. Granger released her husband and peeked into the guest room. She turned to her daughter, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "Can you tell me where Harry is?"

Mr. Granger tapped his finger to his lip in a contemplative manner. "I may be wrong, but since we're all up here, and there's food cooking down there -"

Mrs. Granger cut him short with a playful swot on his arm. "A great detective you are, dear!" Hermione immediately darted down the stairs and toward the kitchen, searching for Harry. She stopped in the doorway, her parents following shortly behind her. They all gaped at the scene in front of them.

Harry had made a full English breakfast - the dining table had plates of eggs, sausage, bacon, and fried tomatoes and multiple glasses of juice, while two pots of mushrooms and beans were still simmering on the stovetop with a teapot whistling. Harry had just pulled a baking pan of toast from the oven and stacked it on another plate when he turned and saw the Grangers staring at him.

"Oh, um… good morning?" Harry inwardly kicked himself again - his ending inflection turned his statement into a question. Hermione didn't seem to mind - she smiled broadly, ran up to Harry... and stopped a full step away from him. Harry flinched a little, surprised to not be tackled as he nearly was the night before.

A battle was ensuing inside Hermione's head - _should I hug him?_

_What if that's what caused him to cry?_

_Don't be ridiculous, you've hugged so many times before!_

_What if… what if…_

She decided to risk it and grabbed Harry tightly around the ribs. Harry let out a big _oomph_ \- again, she had caught him off guard by the ferocity of her hug. Hesitantly, he placed her arms around her back and awkwardly patted her back with one hand. A smile crept over his face as he enjoyed her warmth.

Hermione wanted to unleash the barrage of questions that she had started the night before, to apologize for making him cry, but instead settled for the comforting silence of embracing her best friend. The two remained together for almost a minute before they heard the sound of a throat clearing.

Harry instinctively pulled his hands away and stepped back as Hermione reluctantly released him from her vice-like grip. She glared at her father, who seemed unfazed. Harry decided to carry out his "second impression" plan and stuck his hand out.

"Excuse me, sir, for not introducing myself last night, but I'm Harry Potter. Thank you for… um… allowing me to stay last night. I, um, decided to make you breakfast as a way to… uh, say thanks."

Mr, Granger returned the handshake, gripping Harry's hand much more firmly than he had anticipated. There was a look in his eye as he stared at Harry, his face impassive.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Harry. Hermione has told us so much about you." Harry heard a muffled squeak and glance at Hermione to see her face covered with her hands. Mr. Granger ignored her reaction and said, "I'm Mr. Granger, and this is Mrs. Granger." She smiled genially at Harry with a slight nod. "But..." Harry could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"You can call us-"

Hermione threw her hands down and half-cried, half-yelled in exasperation, "Oh God, Daddy, please don't!"

"But you can call us the Doctors!" Mr. Granger boomed with a sense of self-satisfaction.

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard that Harry thought they might disappear into her skull. Whatever bothered her so much was lost to him. "I'm sorry Mr. Granger, I'm not sure I understand," he said hesitantly.

Mr. Granger seemed shocked that Harry didn't understand. "Surely you know about the Doctor?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who was shaking her head so hard that her hair was waving in front of her face. "Um…"

Harry's eyes widened as her motions became more violent. "Doctor who?" he asked.

Hermione's face was bright red as she stopped shaking her head and let out a loud huff. Mr. Granger couldn't handle it any more and burst out laughing.

"So you do know-"

Mrs. Granger decided it was time to intervene. "That's enough Roger, leave the boy alone." She took the plate of toast that Harry had left on the counter and carried it to the table. "Now let's sit and eat before everything gets cold!"

The room became quiet as they loaded their plates down and began their meal. The adults kept exchanging looks as they ate their meal. Harry noticed they appeared to find his cooking at least adequate, if not decent.

Hermione had made sure to add a little bit of everything on the table to her own plate, which surprised Harry - normally, her early meals at Hogwarts were light. She made a point to compliment him on how good each item was - she even got a second helping of tomatoes and mushrooms. Mr. Granger had just poured his second cup of tea from the stove when they heard a tapping at the window over the sink. A large white owl was perched on the ledge.

"Hedwig!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed at the same time. Mr. Granger opened the window and the owl flew around the kitchen before landing on the back of Harry's chair. He took time to stroke her feathers gently while Hermione tore a few pieces of bacon and fed the owl.

Mr. Granger glanced again at his wife, who gave a subtle nod. He then said, "Now Harry, Hedwig is welcome to stay, but she needs to be outside most of the time. She appears to be house-trained, but we'd rather not worry about cleaning after her."

Harry nodded his head in agreement. "Yes sir, I appreciate you allowing her, and me, to stay."

Mr. Granger, pleased with his answer, continued. "We haven't discussed this, but you are welcome to stay with us until you both return to school." Hermione smiled so widely at that statement that the whole room seemed to brighten. "I know Celia has to get to the office soon, but when she gets home this afternoon, all of us need to sit down and discuss your... situation."

He walked over to Harry and placed his hand on his shoulder. The contact caused Harry to tense, his shoulders raised, his eyes squinting as if preparing himself to be hit. Mrs. Granger narrowed her eyes at Harry's reaction and glanced up at her husband. Their nonverbal communication was starting to make Harry nervous. Hermione seemed to have sensed his discomfort and grabbed his hand.

"One last thing Harry," Mr. Granger said. "While you are a guest at our home, we don't expect you to make breakfast for us like this every morning. Is that understood?"

Harry hung his head in a defeated manner and stared down at the table. Of course he had screwed up his second impression - if he kept this up, it would be a wonder if they'll let him stay until the first of September, or ever again. Without lifting, Harry responded in a whisper, "Yes sir, Mr. Granger, sorry if I-"

"That's enough, Roger." Mrs. Granger's voice was quiet yet firm, but her face had darkened considerably. She stood up forcefully from the table and glared harshly at her husband, causing him to take a step away from the table. Harry gave Hermione a look of uncertainty. To his relief, she appeared as confused as he was.

"My sincere apologies, Harry." Mr. Granger cleared his throat and asked, "So… shall I call Bobby today?" Mrs. Granger's face lightened considerably, and she gave a curt nod. When she spoke again, her voice was returned to its normal tone.

"Harry, dear?" she asked calmly. He kept his head down. Mrs. Granger came up beside him at the table and knelt so that they were at the same level. He reluctantly turned his head to make eye contact with her. He was surprised to see concern in her eyes.

"Harry," she said kindly, "you have done nothing wrong. We are going to try and help you." She placed her hand over his on the table. "I don't know what's happened to have you come to our home, but you are welcome to stay as long as you need."

Harry felt Hermione squeeze his other hand firmly in solidarity. He didn't quite understand what Mrs. Granger was referring to, but the sincerity in her voice caused his eyes to water. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping to avoid a repeat of last night's tears.

Fortunately, Hedwig decided at that time to hoot loudly and glide off the chair, which startled everyone out of the somber moment. She landed in front of the backdoor leading to the garden, where she looked out the full window and hooted again, waiting for someone to open the door. There was nervous laughter around the table as Mrs. Granger stood up and kissed Mr. Granger before letting Hedwig out and headed upstairs.

"Alright you two," Mr. Granger said, "since Celia has to go to work and I don't, why don't you go get dressed," looking at Hermione, "while Harry and I tidy up the kitchen?" Hermione rolled her eyes at her dad and squeezed Harry's hand one last time before rising from the table. The two men made quick work of clearing the table and washing dishes. When Hermione came back to the kitchen, Harry took one look and almost dropped the pan he was attempting to hang over the counter.

She was wearing a light blue shirt without sleeves, a white pair of shorts that stopped a few inches above her knees, and gray trainers with knee-high socks. As she entered the room, she was pulling her hair back into a ponytail. With her arms over her head, her shirt pulled up enough to expose her belly button and tan skin.

Harry gaped openly for a few seconds before remembering that her father was literally standing behind him. Embarrassed by his own reaction, he quickly finished hanging the rest of the pots and went to dry the remaining dishes before Mr. Granger stopped him.

"I can handle the rest from here. Hermione, why don't you show Harry around the back garden?" Mr. Granger's gentle shove outside indicated it wasn't a request. The two teenagers walked down the stairs from the back porch as Mr. Granger watched from the window. Once they were in the garden, he proceeded to the phone. There would be some favours paid forward today.

* * *

Hermione was flying in the air, laughing. After the tour of the garden, which was much larger than the one on Privet Drive, they had found themselves at the swing set her father had built for her when she was in primary school. They had sat idly for a few minutes enjoying the morning before she offered to push him. Never having been on a swing set before, Harry agreed and enjoyed it thoroughly. Then he demanded that he push Hermione, to which she hesitantly agreed. Whenever she had tried to swing by herself growing up, there was a point where she would refuse to go higher, her fear of heights always kicking in.

For whatever reason, she was now well past that point and practically shrieking at Harry, "Higher! Higher!" Harry laughed as he kept pushing her. She couldn't remember him ever laughing so much in the last two years. She couldn't see him, but she could _hear_ the smile written all over his face. An impulsive thought crossed her mind, and before her rational conscience could shoot it down, she responded. As she approached the apex of her next upward swing, Hermione released the chains and launched herself from the seat into the air with a joyful scream.

Her feet hit first, but her legs buckled and Hermione ended up on the grass in a laughing, nearly crying heap. Harry ran over to her and yelled, "Hermione! Are you okay?" His panicked expression for some reason triggered a round of giggles for Hermione, and it was nearly a minute before she finally calmed down enough to nod yes.

Harry stuck his hand out to help pull her up. She grabbed it when another odd urge came to mind. When he got ready to pull her up, Hermione yanked him towards her, which sent him sprawling on the ground half on top of her. That prompted another raucous round of laughter from the two.

By the time they had gotten themselves off the ground and back to the house, Mr. Granger had finished his phone call and put away the last of the dishes. He chuckled as Harry and Hermione took seats at the table, both quite exhausted from their walk around the garden. He said in a serious voice, "Before we do anything else today, I have one very important question for you two." He paused for dramatic effect as they grew quiet, wondering what words would come next. "What toppings do you want on your pizza?"

Hermione shook her head with a smile on her lips before turning to Harry. "Hmm, what do you think? What's your favorite?"

Harry paused for a moment. "Um, I guess whatever you'd like Hermione, I'm fine with that."

"No, Harry," Hermione insisted, "you are our guest. Let's get what you'd like to eat."

"Really, I'm fine with whatever toppings you'd like." Harry smiled, but she could tell something was off.

An obvious and sad explanation crept to Hermione's mind, but she stopped herself from blurting it out loud. _I'll ask him later when we're alone_ , she thought.

"Well," Hermione pretended to think before looking at Mr. Granger, "do you think we can get two smaller pizzas Daddy, one with some vegetables and one with meat?"

Mr. Granger made eye contact with his daughter and tilted his head slightly. She tried to emulate her mother's ability to talk without words and arched her eyebrows slightly, hoping she was saying " _Not now, Dad_ " instead of some other cryptic message. To her surprise, she immediately recognized a response of " _Okay, but you need to talk to me later_ " just from her father squinting and blinking.

"Yes Pumpkin, we can certainly do that today for Harry," Mr. Granger said. "In the meantime, why don't the two of you set up here at the table and check your homework?" While Harry was looking at Hermione, her father winked at her and left the room.

* * *

It wasn't until after they had completed their Transfiguration homework and eaten lunch that Hermione got to talk to Harry alone. They sat on the same couch where Harry had fallen asleep the previous night, this time with a full cushion separating them.

"Harry," Hermione began tentatively, "you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

He looked at her with his lopsided grin that she found adorable. "Yes Hermione, I do know that," he said sincerely.

Hermione returned his smile and said, "Is it okay if I ask you some questions then? If you don't want to give me an answer, you can say so." Harry thought for a moment and then nodded, waiting for her to begin. Not wanting to sound like an interrogator, Hermione tried to speak in a slower manner than usual. "Have you ever eaten pizza… before today?"

Harry's grin somewhat diminished in brightness. "Um… Maybe at primary school once, I think? At least, I had some pizza on my plate before… before, um, Dudley took it."

Hermione could sense Harry already trying to withdraw into himself, so she moved from her end of the couch and placed herself firmly beside him and grabbed his right hand with both of hers.

"Harry, you don't have to talk about it with me if you don't want to…" She hesitated, worried how he would respond. She sighed before continuing, "I just know my parents are going to ask you about... what happened to you yesterday… and what's happened to while growing up." Harry visibly stiffened at her words and looked ready to bolt from the room, if not the house.

For the third time that day, Hermione had an odd, almost crazy, thought come to her head, and she immediately acted before her rational conscience could protest. She released Harry's hand, stood up, and then plopped herself sideways onto his lap, wrapping her right arm around his shoulders. She would not let her friend run away from her.

At first, Hermione feared that she had crossed some unspoken boundary; Harry's face could only be described as mortified, and he was holding his hands out in front of him as if touching her would shock him. She guided his right hand to her knee and held the left hand with her own.

"Harry, I _promise you_ ," Hermione said as she squeezed his hand, "that no matter what you say, or what's happened to you in the past, that you will _always_ be my best friend. I will not think less of you, and neither will my parents. I know you have _suffered_ ," her voice cracked a little, "you're so used to being… unloved… you have this wall built around you - I swear I can feel it, almost see it. Please, let me in. We're not going to turn our backs on you. I… we will do my damned best to help you."

Harry's eyes widened at her uncharacteristic curse, and the two stared at each other. It almost seemed to Hermione that he was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. She was afraid to look away, to break that connection - she had a feeling in her heart that if she did, Harry may never open up. So she kept her eyes on him, held her breath, and waited.

* * *

Harry had been surprised more than a little by Hermione's actions that day. He had been astonished at the playfulness on the swing set and almost jumped out of his skin when she sat in his lap. It was her curse, however mild, that had really thrown him for a loop. And now, they seemed to be locked in some kind of stand-off.

Harry had never spoken about his family circumstance except to one of his primary teachers who was concerned about what he ate at home. That had led to a beating and several days locked in the cupboard when not at school. After that, Harry just kept his head down and his mouth shut when others inquired about his home life.

There was something about Hermione's gaze right now though - he knew that she was stubborn and forceful when she thought he or Ron needed to correct their actions or their work. But this look went beyond that - it was fierce, yet tender, and it held multiple emotions that he was unsure how to describe or even name. At that moment Harry only knew one thing for certain: Hermione would be there for him.

And so he began telling her everything about his life at Privet Drive from as early as he could remember. He could see her biting her lip at times; whether because what he said was so terrible or because she was refraining from asking a question, he did not know. Her eyes became watery, especially when he mentioned how hungry he would get or when he would cry himself to sleep after being hit, but the tears never came out. It finally occurred to him that she was holding them back for him - she didn't want to distract him or herself from his story.

He had just explained how he fled after blowing up Aunt Marge and decided he needed to find Hermione when a thought crossed his mind and caused him to close his mouth - what could he tell her about Grim or Padfoot? She was his best friend, but he had promised Grim that he would not mention him to anyone. A few moments became a minute as he tried to balance the loyalty between his best friend and a relative stranger who had helped him. Before making a decision, motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Hermione's parents were both standing in the doorway to the hall. Harry wasn't sure when they had gotten to that spot, but judging from their mannerisms - Mr. Granger's hand was clenched into a fist and his jaw was drawn tight, while Mrs. Granger's face appeared cold and hard - it was clear that they had heard a lot, if not most, of his story. He shifted uneasily, unsure if their body language was a result from his words or the presence of their daughter on his lap.

Hermione also saw her parents and their expressions, particularly her mother's discerning look at their proximity to one another. However, Hermione tilted her chin up in a small act of defiance and did not move - she would not apologize for helping her best friend.

An awkward silence settled in the room.

The phone rang.

Mr. Granger paused for a moment before leaving the room to answer. Mrs. Granger remained standing, listening to her husband's one-sided conversation in the other room. Then she walked over to her usual armchair and took a seat, her gaze cast toward the floor. Hermione began mentally preparing her defense from her mother's eventual chastisement when Mr. Granger came back and sat on the edge of his chair.

Mrs. Granger asked, "Was that Bobby?"

"Yes," Mr. Granger replied. "He's going to get the Surrey police to make a contact visit tomorrow. I mentioned to him about what Harry just shared, so they'll be sure to start gathering photographic evidence."

Hermione gasped. "I thought the police couldn't just take pictures or enter a home without a warrant?"

Mr. Granger gave a half-smile. "They can't. It's a good thing John MacGregor, one of the regional magistrates, who authorizes warrants has the most beautiful facial surgeon in the country." Mrs. Granger shook her head and rolled her eyes at his compliment. "Bobby Carlisle - he's one of our local prosecuting solicitors - pulled a few strings to help launch an investigation into the Dursleys." He scowled at the name before looking at Harry.

Harry nodded without changing his expression; this all sounded promising and quite honestly too good to be true, but he knew it wouldn't be easy to escape the Dursleys' abusive home. It was Hermione rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb that brought a smile back to his lips.

"Now Harry," Mr. Granger said, "they're going to have to interview you at some point for the investigation. Don't worry, I won't let you go alone." He smiled warmly as Harry released his breath. "The big question that you'll - well, we - will have to explain is how you got from Surrey to Crawley last night by yourself. I apologize for the two of us eavesdropping on your conversation, but we need to know how you traveled so far, especially since you're not allowed to use magic."

Hermione responded for him. "He took the Knight Bus. It's a special bus only for witches and wizards." He began to give her a quizzical look before Hermione dug her fingernails into his shoulders. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head without glancing at him. Her message finally dawned on Harry - if he wasn't ready to share that information, she would cover for him. He squeezed her knee twice discreetly to communicate his thanks.

The Grangers gave Hermione a questioning look before making eye contact with each other. Mrs. Granger pursed her lips. "We can't tell Bobby that Harry traveled using magic - so maybe he 'called us' for help," she used air-quotes, "and that we had just gotten home and drove there last night to pick him up. We weren't ready to tell him that this morning could be our excuse for not divulging it sooner."

Mr. Granger agreed with her fabricated suggestion. "So, if we got home at eight, then that would have put us getting to Surrey around-"

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when there was a loud knock on the front door. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end.

Mr. Granger rose and left the room. Harry and Hermione both stood up, though he kept hold of her hand. They listened closely as they heard the door opened. A familiar Scottish voice sounded, "Mr. Granger, I apologize for my unannounced appearance, but I must speak to Miss Granger at once. It's about Harry Potter."

Harry and Hermione shared a worried look. They immediately recognized the voice of their Head of House, but they had never heard her voice sound so concerned. Harry thought about hiding, but a series of footsteps rapidly approaching indicated there was no time.

Professor McGonagall walked brusquely in the room and began, "Miss Granger, I have some-" She froze at the sight of Harry. A pregnant pause - and then the old teacher reached out her arms and pulled Harry into a hug. Harry was too shocked to reciprocate or speak, but it wouldn't have mattered as McGonagall kept talking. "Oh Mr. Potter - Harry - I am so glad to see you in the flesh and unharmed!"

She released Harry and pulled out her wand. Instantly, a silvery spectre of a cat appeared in front of her. Harry and Hermione looked at each other with astonishment as McGonagall dictated a message. "Albus, Harry Potter is safe at the Grangers. I am with him now." Harry and all the Grangers watched, mouth agape, as the cat then bounded straight through their living room window and down the street.

Hermione found her voice first. "Professor, can you tell us what this is all about?"

"Yes Professor, I thought I was in trouble for underage magic?" Harry asked nervously.

Professor McGonagall straightened her robes and her posture before responding. "Mr. Potter, I am not certain of all the facts, but I do believe you will be pardoned from that incident. We are more concerned for your safety." Her face hardened. "Especially considering that Sirius Black is out looking for you."

Harry blinked and glanced at Hermione to see if she recognized the name. When she didn't, he asked sheepishly, "Professor, forgive me, but I don't know who that is. Why should I be worried that he's looking for me?"

Professor McGonagall blanched. "Sirius Black," she said slowly, "is the reason that your parents are dead."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again to Oxen serving as Alpha/ Britpicker for this story.**


	3. Dogwood and Unicorn Hair

Harry stared down at his hands glumly. It had only been a few minutes ago that Professor McGonagall had explained to him and the Grangers about Sirius Black and how he had betrayed his parents and killed one of their best friends as well as multiple others. Each bit of the story had hit him like one of Dudley's punches until the only sensation he felt was a paralyzing numbness. He was unsure how he had asked permission to leave the room; how he had walked out; how he had opened the back door; how he had asked Hermione to let him be by himself for a little while - but there he was, now sitting alone in one of the swings in the back garden. The absolute joy that he and Hermione had experienced just a few hours ago in this very spot was a distant memory in his mind.

Sirius Black had not killed his parents outright, but he just may as well have. And now, it appears that he was searching for Harry to finish the job.

But that wasn't what was bothering Harry.

No, Harry wasn't worried about Sirius Black finding him, or his own safety. He was worried about Hermione and her family. They had willingly taken him in from the street without a moment's notice and without hesitation. What was their reward for such an act of kindness? They get to be directly in harm's way - because of him. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed back his tears. He could handle facing Sirius Black and being at risk, but he _could not_ allow Hermione - or her parents - to be in danger, to suffer needlessly because of him.

That meant only one thing: he would need to run away. The thought of going back on the street was not pleasant, but if it meant Hermione would be safe…

It would be worth it.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in a chair from the dining room table. She placed it directly in front of the back door, where she could look out into the garden and see Harry. She had a book in her lap, but it was only there for pretense - her attention was on her best friend. Hermione sighed as she stared at him. That afternoon - not even an hour ago! - she had somehow gotten through the invisible barrier around Harry's heart and knocked down the wall he used to keep people out. Now it looked as if the wall had been rebuilt even higher and stronger than before. She knew Harry needed time to process the bombshell of information dumped on him; she just wished she could help him, to hold him while he did so, to provide the comfort and support that he so clearly needed and obviously never received from his relatives.

She had watched Harry while Professor McGonagall had shared the awful fate of the Potters. She had held his hand and tried to show her support with small squeezes. To her dismay, Harry didn't return them. As soon as McGonagall had finished explaining how Sirius had escaped, he had asked quietly if he could leave the room. Hermione had followed him to the backdoor and had been heartbroken to hear his eerily calm voice ask her to let him be alone for a little while. She had quietly agreed, holding back her own tears again. If he saw her crying, she worried that he would somehow feel like he had caused it and would feel guilty for something that wasn't his fault.

She could still hear Professor McGonagall talking with her parents. She couldn't hear the actual conversation since they kept their voices low, but she could hear the intense and concerned tones being carried by both parties.

Hermione began mentally preparing her defense in case her parents decided to ask Harry to leave. No, she would not let them make a definitive choice without her opinion and justifications known. Harry had found his way to her home because he thought _she_ would know what to do about his aunt. It was clear that he valued her help - she wasn't going to turn her back on him in his time of need, and she wasn't going to let her parents do it either without a fight.

She had made four logical points in her head and was going back over the examples she would use for each one when she looked up and realized that Harry was no longer alone in the garden. There was now a large black dog sitting in front of Harry, its head being cradled by his hands. The lack of concern on Harry's face made her feel somewhat at ease, but then the dog ran toward the trees near the fence line. Harry stood up and followed until he was no longer in sight.

Hermione jumped to her feet and pressed her face against the glass. It was finally starting to get dark, so it was harder to see out of the window because of the light in the kitchen. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the time anxiously. _Okay… I'll give him five minutes,_ she thought, _and if I can't see him after that, I'll go find him_. She took a deep breath. _Better make that two minutes_.

* * *

The sound of a dog barking broke Harry from his melancholy. He looked up to see Padfoot across the yard, his tail wagging furiously. The dog, no, grim, ran up to Harry and rubbed his nose all over his hands. Harry, distracted from his sorrow for a moment, smiled as he rubbed Padfoot's head and scratched his ears. Padfoot sat and allowed Harry to continue petting him. Harry found that his mood was in a somewhat better place with the dog so close by. He sighed as he remembered his dilemma.

"Padfoot," Harry asked, "do you know where Grim is? I may need to find him again."

If Padfoot understood his question, he showed no sign of it. The animal kept his head down and started scratching his belly with his back paw when Harry found an itchy spot on his ear. Harry laughed at the sight and continued on.

"It's been nice being around Hermione and her family - thanks for ringing the doorbell by the way, you silly dog!" Padfoot lifted his head and opened his mouth - was he... _grinning_? Harry shook his head slightly, never stopping his physical ministrations. "I don't think I ever said thank you for saving me from the Aurors yesterday. I'll have to see if I can get some food for you and Grim both." That got Padfoot's attention as he placed his front paws on Harry's lap and licked his face affectionately. Harry almost toppled out of the seat backwards from the sudden movement. "Stop that, Padfoot!" Harry laughed again as he tried to maintain his balance in the swing. Padfoot then jumped down and put his head back into Harry's lap, apparently wanting his ears to be rubbed once more. Harry obliged willingly.

It was another minute or two before Harry thought of a different question. "Padfoot, do you think Grim would take me away from here? I need to run away again, only -"

Harry didn't get to finish his next question as the dog took a few steps away from him and shook his head. Then Padfoot ran towards the trees in the back of the garden. Harry paused for a moment at the sudden change, then chased after him.

Harry walked past the first tree and looked around. There couldn't have been more than a dozen trees around him, but the dog seemed to have vanished into thin air. It didn't help that the tree canopy blocked most of the remaining daylight, leaving the area shrouded in darkness. Disappointed, Harry turned to go back to the house.

"Stay right there, Harry. Don't turn around."

Harry immediately recognized the raspy voice, but he was unsettled by its grave tone. He waited for Grim to speak again.

"Okay, you can turn now." Harry hesitated, then slowly turned to his left. Grim was leaning against a tree closest to the fence, his body deliberately set behind the tree to avoid direct sight from the house. For some reason, Grim's uneasiness permeated to Harry. The two stared at each other briefly. A random queer thought ran through Harry's head, but he pushed it aside and decided to ask a question that had been burning in the back of his mind.

"Grim, do you… did you know Sirius Black?" Harry watched as Grim gulped, his face void of discernible emotion.

"You could say... that I know him quite well, Pup. I take it McGonagall told you about Black?" Harry nodded with little surprise - apparently Grim had been watching the house.

"Why…" for the first time since listening to McGonagall, Harry started to tear up. "Why did he betray my parents and me? Was he really a Death Eater in disguise?"

Grim's gaze lowered to the ground. "Harry," Grim said carefully, "Sirius, he - he made some bad decisions that hurt a lot of people and killed more than a few… I can tell you, unequivocally, that he was never a _Death Eater_." The amount of venom Grim used to spit out his last two words struck Harry rather oddly.

"What makes you so sure?" Harry asked.

Grim closed his eyes, a grimace of pain on his face. It looked like the weight of the world was sitting upon his shoulders. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Finally, Grim opened his bloodshot eyes, a great sadness making them appear like a dog begging for a treat.

"I… I just know, Harry. There's more than I want to tell you, and you deserve to know it. I will gladly tell you everything, I swear… Just, not now."

Grim slumped to the ground by the tree, exhaustion written all over his body. Harry decided to sit as well, keeping his eyes on the mysterious man, disappointed in the lack of information from Grim but feeling sorry for pushing the man.

"So," Grim said, changing the subject, "what's this about trying to run away again? Didn't make a good impression with your girlfriend's parents, I take it?"

Harry turned bright red as Grim winked and grinned weakly at him. Thankfully, the encroaching darkness helped cover some of his blush. "She's not my girlfriend. Even if she was, I can't stay, not with Sirius Black looking for me. I can't put them at risk."

Grim nodded. "I can see your point there. However, rather than having you run off, I think I have an idea that could help." He waited for Harry to agree before continuing. "If you'll lend me your wand one more time, I can set up a few defensive wards around the house that will help keep you and her family safe."

Harry initially balked at the idea, but Grim pushed back with calm vigor. "Harry, you've seen what it's like living on the run, having to eat out of the rubbish bins. As much as I'd like having you around, I can't subject you to that kind of life." He patted Harry's foot with his hand. "Besides, as much fun as you two were having today on the swings, I think you'll be better off staying here."

Harry, not wanting to agree with Grim's assessment for fear of more teasing, shot back, "You say that like her parents will agree to let me stay after finding out a mass murderer is after me."

Grim shrugged. "Fair enough - if they say you have to leave tonight, I'll let you come with me. I'll still put up the wards so that they're safe. Deal?"

Harry looked at Grim's outstretched, grimy hand, then shook it with his own. "Deal." Harry rose to his feet and gingerly helped Grim up from the ground before handing him his wand. Grim made a few artistic waves in the air similar to what he did the night before.

"Your wand acts a lot like mine used to - Dogwood and unicorn hair, twelve inches." Grim gave another barking laugh before turning to Harry. "Now, this will take more than a few minutes, so while I cast the wards, why don't you go inside and back to Hermione? I promise I'll leave your wand on the back porch before you go to sleep tonight."

Harry shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving his wand anywhere or with anyone, especially a relative stranger. Grim tried to ease his concern. "You want to keep her safe, right?" Harry nodded. "Then this will help. Once I'm done, I'll leave the wand. If anyone with hostile intentions toward you or their family comes on the property, this will set off a caterwaul that'll scare them away. I plan to stick around myself, so that'll be another set of eyes to protect her."

Grim's gaze went past Harry's shoulder. He stepped closer to Harry and whispered, "I think someone is looking for you." Harry spun around to see Hermione opening the backdoor and hurrying out on the porch and down the stairs. Grim patted him on the back and gave him a little push. "Good luck, pup."

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione called. She was trying to sound calm, but her voice definitely had an edge of panic. She also tried to move nonchalantly from the house, but as she reached the bottom step to the garden, she began sprinting to the trees in the back. She made it as far as the swing set when Harry came back into view. Relieved, Hermione closed the distance between them and engulfed Harry in a fierce hug, nearly knocking both of them to the ground.

It was a few seconds before Harry was able to get Hermione's attention to ease off enough so that he could breathe. When she did, Harry took a deep gasp of air. "I'm okay, Hermione, I promise," he wheezed.

Hermione nodded, then released him from their embrace and smacked him hard on the arm with her fist.

"Harry James Potter!" she squealed, pointing a finger and stabbing it at Harry's chest, "Don't you ever go out of my sight again! Swear on it!"

Harry, rubbing his arm gingerly, decided to attempt to diffuse the situation with humour. "Hermione, I'd agree with you, but… I don't think your parents would like you in the bathroom when I shower."

For a moment, Harry thought he was going to get more than a punch as Hermione's face scrunched up and grew dark red. The girl stood up as tall as she could, her chin tilted up at him. And then she started giggling.

Harry was confused, but as Hermione slowly lost herself in laughter, he slowly began to laugh as well. Suddenly, Hermione smacked him again on the arm with an open hand, though not nearly as hard as she did before. However, the place was still tender, so Harry yelped from the blow. Hermione carried on with her thoughts as she pulled him into another tight hug.

"I'm sorry for hitting you Harry, but I was worried sick! I saw you with that dog and then you chased after it, and I couldn't see you at all, but I didn't want to invade your space since you asked to be left alone, but I was scared that something might happen to you while you were out of sight, plus it was getting dark, and with Sirius Black…"

Hermione shuddered, her voice trailing off. Harry knew where her mind was going with her last thought. When they broke apart from the hug, he placed both hands on her waist right where her shorts and shirt met and squeezed gently. They began walking back to the porch in silence, arms wrapped around each other. It wasn't until they had gotten back in the light that Harry realized he was touching bare skin with his fingers, Hermione's shirt having pulled up slightly from their hug. He dropped his hand quickly. Seeing a bench swing on the porch, he motioned to her to have a seat. They both took a seat with their thighs touching.

Harry knew that Hermione was right about worrying. It had not occurred to him how upset she would be until he considered their places reversed. What if someone - no, a mass murderer - was looking for Hermione, and she went off on her own? An involuntary shudder ran down his spine at the thought. Harry turned his head to look at Hermione. She deserved to know the truth - about how he got here, about Padfoot… even about Grim.

"Hermione?" She glanced up at Harry. He was surprised to see her eyes starting to water. "Hermione, I think it's time I tell you how I got here." She stared at him, then nodded her head without looking away.

"It started when I realized I needed to find you. I just knew in my heart that you would know what to do. I remember that you gave me your number and address on the train on the way home last summer. So, I found a pay phone at a service station, but when I got ready to dial your number, I remembered that you were on vacation, so I just sat there, not sure what to do." Harry paused for a moment, debating whether to mention digging in the trash for food. He decided to not mention it in case she became grossed out.

"Then... I met Padfoot. You saw him earlier. He's a dog - well, actually, he's a grim, a magical dog, you see?" Hermione's gaze stayed on him, but she acknowledged him with a hum and a nod. "Well, I met him, and he - protected me - from being caught by the Aurors - the wizard police." Hermione's eyes widened. "There was a group of them looking for me after I blew up Aunt Marge, and they almost caught me. They got one good look at Padfoot, though, and they took off… apparently wizards don't like grims?" Hermione shrugged but still said nothing, letting Harry tell his story without interruption. "So then, he led me to a patch of trees out of the way to hide, and then he disappeared - and then…"

Harry suddenly thought about how the next part would sound out loud, and he looked out into the garden, which was now nearly pitch black. He wasn't sure how to tell Hermione the rest of his story, or whether Hermione would berate him or hit him again or both when she found out how he lent Grim his wand, _especially_ since they know about Sirius Black now. He became lost in his thoughts, afraid to be honest.

It was Hermione touching his knee with her hand that brought him back to his senses. He realized that at some point he had wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders and that she had turned her body to lean into him. It was the look in her eyes though, that made him feel better - without using any words, she was assuring him that she would be there for him. That gave him the courage to go on.

"And... that's when I met Grim. He's a person, not a dog. And that's not his real name, I figured out, but he wouldn't tell me his real name." When Hermione didn't react, Harry continued. "Turns out, Padfoot is Grim's grim, I mean, um, Grim is Padfoot's… owner?" He was confused by his own explanation, but Hermione nodded that she understood.

"Grim - he told me that he was on the run too from the Aurors, and that he would help keep me safe. He -" Harry took a deep breath. "- he knew my parents, was good friends with them, before they died."

Hermione's eyes narrowed the slightest bit at that.

"So, after meeting him, Grim agreed to bring me here, to where you live, and we would wait until you came home from your vacation." Harry quickly added, "I know that sounds terrible, but he said that he promised my parents he would take care of me, so I trusted him. And we - we apparated here."

"How?" Hermione asked quietly. Harry's stomach lurched.

"H-how what?" he stammered back. Did she figure out about Grim using his wand?

"How did you apparate? What was it like? I've read about it, it doesn't sound pleasant."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "It was awful. I, um… I threw up once we arrived."

To his relief, Hermione gave a small sympathetic smile and patted his knee. Harry returned the smile.

"What happened after that?" Hermione inquired.

"Huh? Oh!" Harry realized he had stopped his story prematurely. "Well, we found our way to your house. I thought about slipping into your back garden," Harry blushed as he thought how that could be interpreted, "but then I saw the lights were on in the house, and…" His mind replayed Hermione standing in the upper window brushing her hair, and his face broke out into a bright smile. "... I knew it'd be okay."

Hermione, not sure what brought on his smile, decided to speak up at that point.

"You mean to tell me, Harry Potter, that you met a dog, who belonged to a stranger you've never met, who didn't give you his real name but told you that he knew your parents and was hiding from Aurors, and you decided to trust him?" Hermione spoke the question in an even tone, but it still made Harry squirm.

"Um… would you promise not to hit me if I say yes?"

Hermione's face showed no emotion. "I will consider _not_ hitting you."

Harry sighed. "Yes, I decided to trust him. Though, to be perfectly fair, I didn't know about Sirius Black looking for me at the time." There was a weight now pressing on his stomach - he hadn't lied to Hermione, but he also hadn't told the entire truth. Hermione appeared to sense his discomfort - she tilted her head and gave him a half-frown.

"Also…" Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I may have… let him borrow my wand so we could apparate."

Even with his eyes shut, Harry could feel Hermione's glare burning into him.

"You… did… what?" Her voice was quiet but intense.

"He doesn't have a wand, you see, because… he'd been in Azkaban, so he needed mine so we could travel." Harry turned his head back toward the yard and decided to put himself out of his misery. "He… um, Grim, that is… I just met with him, and… he has my wand right now… I gave it to him so he can cast some wards to protect your house from Sirius Black. That's everything." Harry braced himself for what was sure to be a vicious punch and verbal barrage.

He was met with silence.

Genuinely surprised by the lack of violence, Harry turned his eye and peeked out of the corner of his eye to look at Hermione. She didn't look angry. In fact, she wasn't even looking at him. Her attention was at the stairs from the porch. Puzzled, Harry opened his other eye and followed her gaze.

Padfoot was standing there. In his mouth was Harry's wand.

The dog slowly moved toward the two of them. Harry could feel Hermione tensing beside him, heard her audibly suck in her breath and pull herself closer to Harry. Harry instinctively gripped her tighter by the shoulder and held out his left hand in front of them. He didn't think Padfoot would be dangerous, but he wanted to be ready to act in case something happened.

Padfoot seemed to be aware of their apprehension - his tail was tucked in between his legs, and he approached in a sideways manner, his head facing away from Hermione. As his head got within touching range, Harry kept his hand still. Padfoot lowered the wand into his open palm and dropped the wand. Harry decided to try and ease Hermione's mind.

"Hermione, I want you to meet Padfoot. Padfoot, this is Hermione."

Hermione refused to move a muscle. Padfoot turned his head slightly and dipped his head in as non-threatening a manner as a dog could. Harry set his wand in his lap and used his hand to scratch Padfoot's ear. The dog enjoyed the scratches but tried to limit his response, his eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and Hermione.

Harry held his breath as Hermione's fingers first twitched, then _sl-ow-ly_ left his knee to touch Padfoot's head. Padfoot stopped panting for a moment and became as still as a statue.

"N-n-nice d-d-doggy…" Hermione whimpered.

Padfoot moved his head toward Hermione. She flinched, then brought her hand back to his head and started scratching. He began panting again and closed one eye while looking at Harry. Hermione gave Harry a perplexed stare.

"Did he just… _wink_ , at you?"

Harry gave his lopsided grin and shrugged. "He almost seems human, doesn't he?"

Both of them would have sworn that Padfoot smiled at them after that.

* * *

Harry laid in bed, physically and mentally exhausted. After their encounter with Grim, Hermione's parents had called them back into the living room, where all three adults had some sort of adult beverage in hand. They had determined, after a long discussion, that Harry would continue to stay at the Grangers until they returned to Hogwarts. Apparently Mr. Granger had refused to allow Harry to leave. Professor Dumbledore had sent back correspondence while they were outside, confirming that Harry was not in trouble for the Aunt Marge incident and that the Aurors were only seeking to find him the previous day, not arrest him. This alleviated some of Harry's concerns.

Professor McGonagall then informed Harry and Hermione that she would be personally escorting the two of them, along with Hermione's parents, to Diagon Alley the following day so that they could get their school supplies. Their hope was to keep a low profile rather than waiting until the week before classes began.

After McGonagall had left, the Grangers continued their conversation about the investigation of the Dursleys and what would be required of Harry. The conversation ended when an unladylike snore had come from Hermione, who had somehow fallen asleep leaning on his shoulder in the living room. Harry was actually a little sad when Mrs. Granger woke her up and told them both to go to bed - he found the small weight and pressure of Hermione's head comforting.

Grim's comment about Hermione being his girlfriend started playing in Harry's mind. Between his embarrassment about that comment and his reaction to seeing Hermione last night and that morning, there was a lot to think about and consider.

Harry had never thought about Hermione being his girlfriend, or really even the fact that Hermione was a girl at all. She was always just Hermione, one of his two best friends. He couldn't deny how much he enjoyed being around her. She also seemed to understand him better than anyone, even Ron - that broomstick servicing kit was definitely the best birthday gift he had ever gotten.

Harry grinned in anticipation about tomorrow. He could see himself walking down Diagon Alley holding Hermione's hand, him telling her a joke and her laughing with a melodic joy, her looking at him with her chocolatey eyes, their faces moving closer together…

In a weird twist, Harry fell asleep before he could finish his daydream.

* * *

The following morning, Harry woke up much later and found his way to the dining table. The Granger were both already dressed for the day and had a moderate spread of breakfast options to eat. Hermione joined him only a minute or so later - both of them were still in their pajamas, and their matching unruly hair were quite a sight to behold. The two grinned at each other when she sat down. Harry had a flashback to his daydream, and he quickly took a long sip of his tea to obscure his face.

After breakfast, the two took turns using the bathroom and getting ready. Hermione emerged from her room in a purple sundress that came halfway down her calves but exposed a good bit of her shoulders and all of her arms. Harry's face broadened into a wide smile before he looked down sadly at his own ratty clothes. He was unable to find his shoes left over from Dudley, so his nice school shoes stuck out like a sore thumb to his oversized pants and shirt.

Professor McGonagall knocked on the door at exactly 9:30 am. Her normal professional demeanor had returned, greeting both "Mister Potter" and "Miss Granger" in the living room.  
"Professor Dumbledore has requested that the Floo Network be extended to your home, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," she said. "That will be our method of travel today." She pulled out a small case of floo powder and tossed a handful into the fireplace. All the Grangers' eyes widened at the eruption of green flames from the previous unlit fire.

A few minutes later, the five of them stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron soot-free (Harry tried to memorize the cleaning spell Professor McGonagall had used so as to tell Ron and the Weasleys). He watched in silent awe as the brickwork shifted to allow them access to Diagon Alley. Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently.

"Magic is amazing, isn't it?" she said softly to him, a hint of a smile on her lips. He dumbly nodded back in response.

Being an early Friday morning, the street was relatively quiet. They made their way past most of the shops, Hermione remarking to her parents about where they needed to be sure and visit before they left. As they passed the bookstore, Hermione asked, "Professor McGonagall, have you any success with-"

"No, I have not heard anything, Miss Granger," McGonagall retorted quietly. "Please remember you are not to tell anyone about that."

Harry glanced first at McGonagall, then Hermione. Hermione shook her head to indicate " _Not right now"_ to him. Harry tilted his head down to confirm that he understood. The Grangers shared their own silent look of amusement as they watched the teenagers.

After stopping at Gringotts and filling his coin purse with galleons, Harry and Hermione began shopping in earnest. They picked up most of their supplies rather quickly, Professor McGonagall sometimes keeping them in stores or out of sight when certain individuals passed by. Harry asked to step in Quality Quidditch Supplies to inspect the Firebolt in the window for a few minutes; Hermione requested the same when they approached the Magical Menagerie. Harry, needing some owl treats, agreed.

They were just about to leave the store when Hermione let out something between a shriek and a yell and started petting the biggest, ugliest cat Harry had ever seen. The bright orange cat had a bottlebrush tail and was apparently part-kneazle, according to the owner. Hermione beamed at Harry. "Kneazles are a kind of magical cat and are supposed to be excellent judges of character!" she recited from memory. Harry, not quite understanding her attraction to the creature, shrugged. A thought passed through his head.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" He asked the shopkeeper. "Do you happen to have any treats for… a grim?"

Harry had not expected an affirmative response, but he was taken off guard when the shopkeeper paled and took a step back. "Why in Merlin's name would you want to give treats to a grim? You should never want one around at all!" She shook her head before leaving the front of the store in a tizzy.

Hermione proceeded to carry Crookshanks (as he was quickly named) around the rest of their shopping trip, her mother holding him when they entered Flourish and Blotts. Harry volunteered to hold Hermione's books for her while she stopped, a decision he came to regret as the stack grew ever taller. After the thirteenth book was added to the pile, Harry's curiosity overcame him.

"Hermione… Why so many books? I thought you could only take three electives this year?"

Hermione placed the fourteenth and fifteenth book in Harry's arms, eliciting a groan from him. "Yes Harry, you're only supposed to take three electives, but I asked Professor McGonagall for an exemption so that I can take all five. She hasn't confirmed it, but better be prepared if it goes through." Hermione had now found a book on different magical animals (not, thankfully, _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , Harry thought) and had to stand on her tip-toes to add it to the top of the pile. "There, that should be enough for now." She walked toward the register before spotting another book she was interested in, but when she saw the price inside the cover, she placed it down sadly.

Harry made a mental note of the name of the book – her birthday was coming up in just over a month, after all.

Mr. Granger thankfully helped Harry set the books down on the front counter so that they could check out. Harry, noticing that the stack of galleons the Granger had converted from pounds already looking slim, offered to pay for the books himself. Mr. Granger looked down at the boy, a bemused look on his face.

"Normally, Harry, I would say no, but I have a proposal for you. How about you pay for these books, and in exchange I'll pay for you to get some new clothes?" Harry took one look down at his tattered shirt before extending a hand.

"I think we have a deal!"

The cashier placed all the books in a small bag with temporary charms so that the bags weren't too heavy and could hold all the books easily.

It was close to eleven now, so Mr. Granger suggested they grab a quick bite before leaving. Hermione immediately asked if they could have ice cream at Fortescue's. Harry and Hermione had grabbed a small table in the outdoor seating area closest to the alley and were eating when they heard their names being called.

Neville Longbottom came running up and took a seat at the table next to them. "Harry! Thank goodness you're okay!"

Harry and Hermione shared a confused look. "Thanks Neville, but – why wouldn't I be?"

Neville stared back and forth at them, his face long and solemn. "Well, the Daily Prophet mentioned something horrible happening at your house and that you had disappeared -"

"It's a shame, really, that you weren't harmed, or arrested," a familiar voice drawled nearby.

Harry let out a huff before looking towards Draco Malfoy, who was approaching the table with a sneer on his face. "It's a shame that they were able to help that Muggle too - she would have made an excellent example how -"

Whatever vile thing Malfoy was about to say died on his lips as Crookshanks darted out from under Hermione's chair and swiped at Draco's leg, his tail and back poofed to its maximum height. At his appearance, Draco had let out a rather high-pitched scream and jumped several feet in the air and away from the half-kneazle. Harry, Hermione, and Neville all laughed boisterously at Draco's reaction.

Before the blonde Slytherin could attempt to insult them again, Lucius Malfoy appeared and smack Draco on the back with his cane. The blow was not harsh, but it certainly wasn't a light one, either. Lucius gave Harry and Hermione his own sneer and proceeded down the street without comment. Harry noticed that Lucius stopped to talk to a gaunt, tall man at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The two wizards took a long look at Harry, then slipped out of sight with Draco, still rubbing his back, following behind.

It took Hermione grabbing his hand to break Harry's attention away. He smirked at Hermione before dipping his spoon in her pumpkin-chocolate ice cream and putting it in his mouth. She scoffed at him in mock indignation before dipping her own spoon in his treacle tart ice cream. The two smiled and giggled at each other until Neville coughed nervously. Harry then recalled what Neville had been saying before Draco had interrupted them.

"Neville, what did you mean, they said I disappeared? What did the Prophet say exactly?" Harry asked.

Neville half-shrugged. "They mentioned that they couldn't find you after something bad happened at your home. The Minister was quoted as saying that you were perfectly safe in a hidden location, but someone in the DMLE leaked that there was a massive manhunt for you, all Aurors on deck."

Hermione interjected with a curious look. "What's the DMLE?"

"It stands for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Susan Bones, she's a Hufflepuff from our year, her aunt Amelia Bones is the Head. She wouldn't confirm the Minister's statement or that there was a manhunt. My grandmother said that meant one of those two things must be false." Neville looked up and stood quickly. "Sorry," he stammered, "I have to go back to my grandmother."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for telling us, Neville. We'll see you on the Express in a few weeks!"

* * *

As they were getting ready to leave the alley, an idea popped in Harry's head. "Hermione, I need to pick up something extra. Would you mind going back to the bookstore for a few minutes?"

"Sure, Harry, you don't have to ask me twice!" She gave him a sideways glance that asked " _What are you up to?"_

Harry winked back at her. " _I'll tell you when we're alone."_

He turned back up the alley and was nearly at Ollivander's before he realized that Mr. Granger had followed him. He looked up sheepishly at Hermione's father. Mr. Granger gave a kind smile back before saying, "Just keeping an eye out for you. I'm sure whatever you're doing is in line." Harry gave a half-nod before opening the door to the shop and letting Mr. Granger enter first.

The inside of the shop was just as he remembered it when he had entered two years earlier, the boxes of wands filling every available space on the shelves. After a minute or two, Mr. Ollivander came out from the backroom, a work apron over his robes. "Ah! Good morning Mister Potter! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Mr. Ollivander smiled mirthfully with his grey eyes.

"Good morning Mr. Ollivander. I, um, was wondering…" Harry debated on how much he could say in front of Mr. Granger without appearing suspicious. "I was wondering if you could help a friend of mine? You see, he… he lost his wand and could really use a new one."

Mr. Ollivander cocked his head to the side. "I see… It would be better if he came in on his own, you know."

Harry gulped. "I understand that, and I, um, tried to tell him that myself, but he asked if I could do it for him?" He waited nervously, hoping that his lie wouldn't draw either man's scrutiny - if too many questions were asked, Harry's house of cards would collapse.

He decided to sweeten the pot. "My friend said that he would gladly pay triple the normal rate for the trouble." That seemed to please the wandmaker and intrigue Mr. Granger, who raised an eyebrow at Harry. Harry tried to ignore him politely and kept his eyes on Mr. Ollivander, who appeared ready to acquiesce.

"Fine then, Mister Potter, I can provide the wand. Do you know the exact specifications?"

"Yes sir. It was Dogwood with unicorn hair core…" Harry could see Ollivander's smile disappear from his eyes, the colour slowly leaving his face. He inwardly gulped but kept his own expression blank.

"Would you know the length he needs for his wand?" Ollivander said cautiously.

Harry was silent for a second before asking innocently, "Does length matter?"

Mr. Granger started coughing hardily. Harry glanced back at the man with concern, unsure of what caused his fit. The man finished coughing with a grin on his face and waved at Harry to carry on.

"Um… thirteen inches, I think?" Harry hoped this one variance would pacify Ollivander's suspicions.

For a long moment, Mr. Ollivander's eyes were locked on Harry's, as if looking for something out of place. Harry held his breath.

Finally, the wandmaker broke his gaze and nodded curtly. "Right then. It just so happens…" he turned and bent down to the bottom shelf by his feet and pulled one of the boxes from the middle of the pile, "... that exact model is right here."

Not wanting to risk his luck further, Harry thanked Mr. Ollivander, quickly paid for the wand, and stepped back into the street. Hermione, Mrs. Granger, and Professor McGonagall were just stepping out of Flourish and Blott's, another bag on Hermione's arm. When she saw Harry, her smile resembled a floodlight, the brightness making even the darkest parts of the alley appear as clear as day. She grabbed Harry in a tight but short embrace before taking his hand. Harry saw Mrs. Granger give her husband a questioning look, while Professor McGonagall had a small frown on her face from having to wait.

Harry chose to ignore the adults and began walking toward the Leaky Cauldron, still holding Hermione's hand, finding its warmth radiating throughout his body. He reluctantly let go in order to open the door to the bar. He held it for Hermione before following in after her. A flash of light froze them dead in their tracks.

The dining area was full of reporters and photographers, the light bulbs going off incessantly. It took a moment for Harry to realize that _he_ was their subject of attention.

Professor McGonagall took charge and stepped in front of Harry. With one glare, half the media gallery cowered and moved out of the way. She walked with purpose toward the public floo, Harry and the Grangers following after. She stopped before reaching it, causing Harry to run into her back with Hermione repeating the action with Harry.

A short, round man was standing in front of the floo, clutching at a lime-green bowler hat. A forced smile sat on his face. Harry then remembered that the man was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. He had seen him once before in Hagrid's hut the previous spring. Fudge rudely pushed Professor McGonagall aside before grabbing Harry's hand with both of his own and started shaking it vigorously.

"Harry, it's good to see you _safe and sound_!" Fudge made sure to emphasize his words loudly for the reporters. More flashing lights strobed the room as Fudge looked at the cameras and held his smile, refusing to let go of Harry's hand.

"Now, my boy," Fudge continued at the same volume, "since it's clear that you are _in no immediate danger_ , let's get you off to a new safe location, away from-"

Mr. Granger chose to step in at that moment, his own hand outstretched. "I apologize for interrupting, Minister, but Harry already is in a safe location, and I don't see the need for him to be moved at this time." Mrs. Granger was right behind him. Both their faces bore smiles, but Harry could see the fire behind their eyes, clearly telling the Minister not to challenge them.

Fudge's fake smile faltered as he released Harry from his grasp and shook Mr. Granger's hand. "Oh, of course, you're right, Mister…?"

"Granger, Minister Fudge. But you can call me-"

Mrs. Granger broke in. "Roger, we should be leaving now." And with that, the Grangers used their bodies to block the reporters from seeing the fireplace.

Harry gestured for Hermione to go first in the floo when something caught his eye. There was a poster on the wall near the fireplace that he had missed on their way in. At the top in bold letters were the words **WANTED: SIRIUS BLACK**. That, however, was not what had caught Harry's attention.

The picture of the wizard on the poster was from a few years ago - the man couldn't have been much older than twenty, if that. His clothes were nice, his hair and beard long but relatively clean, his eyes bright and full of life. The man bore a snarl on his lips and was screaming at the camera, even though no sound could be heard. It was a far look from the man he had met two days before, but there was no mistaking it…

Grim was Sirius Black.

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun DUN! The plot thickens...**

**Thanks as always to Oxen, resident Alpha/ Brit picker, for his help. He has started his own story titled "Hugs From Hermione" (Author name TheOxen) on ffn dot net - you should definitely check it out!**

**Kudos to Maschl for his help as well - I had a lovely discussion with him about writing long stories and how to plan ahead. He provided a great bit of feedback, and I owe him for helping me write better!**

**Finally, thanks to reader Clive54 for his assistance on the wording concerning British attorneys and solicitors. I'll be correcting Chapter 2 shortly.**


	4. Padfoot Saves the Day

Even as she was stepping into the floo, Hermione had not missed seeing Harry tense up, his face contorted by some potentially morbid or awful thought. Fortunately, she still remembered his advice to enunciate and arrived safely back at home. Crookshanks oddly seemed to enjoy the floo travel, though he scurried from her arms to explore his new home once they exited the fireplace.

Hermione waited until Harry and all the adults had returned before grabbing Harry's hand and their bags. She called over the shoulder, "We're going upstairs to organize our school supplies, be back in a bit!" Even after flying up the steps and stopping in front of their two doors, Hermione saw that Harry was still in some form of shock. She set down her bags and took hold of his shoulders. "Harry? What happened? What did you see?"

It did not look like Harry had even heard her, so she lightly pinched the side of his neck and repeated his name. He glanced up, almost as if he hadn't realized she was standing there. Then he quickly turned and opened his bedroom door and sat in front of his trunk.

Hermione started to follow him and paused in the doorframe, her mother's words sounding in her mind. She watched Harry with a worried look as he dug through his clothing and possessions. He finally pulled out a photo album and stood up, thumbing through the pages as he came back to her. He held up the book so Hermione could see. She gasped audibly.

It was a photo of Harry's parents on their wedding day. The first thing that Hermione noticed was just how - young - everyone was. The second thing was just how much Harry resembled his father - the hair, the facial structure, their smile. Hermione found herself thinking that if Harry continued to look like his dad, he would be extremely handsome as he got older.

It was when Harry gestured with his finger to the man standing besides his father that Hermione realized what Harry had seen. She had passed and noticed the wanted poster when they first arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and at a few other places on Diagon Alley, but… seeing his face standing besides the Potters, and Harry's reaction at his poster, she quickly surmised what was the cause.

"Harry," she whispered, "is the man you met - Grim - is he-"

"Sirius Black." His voice did not sound normal; his eyes were dull. For the first time in a long time, Hermione could not identify what Harry was feeling. This worried her, even scared her, but she felt a strong urge to remain calm and rational. Harry needed her as an anchor right now - she could worry later.

She used her thumb to touch the side of his jaw. "I think you and I should sit down and talk about this - after lunch." She hoped that if she made her request more of a statement than a question, Harry would be less likely to say no or attempt to withdraw himself. To her relief, Harry nodded after a few seconds of consideration. He nodded as he looked at her face.

"Yeah… I'd like that."

* * *

They found themselves sitting on the swing set in the back garden again. It was early afternoon, but Harry made a point not to go or even look toward the copse of trees where he had seen Grim last night. Hermione decided that she needed to start the conversation.

"I feel silly asking, and I don't mean to doubt you, but are you one hundred percent sure that Grim is Sirius?"

Harry nodded. "You don't have to say it. I already know."

Hermione blinked at him confusedly. "What do you mean, Harry? I don't have to say what?"

He kept his eyes on the ground, a look of defeat on his face. "You don't have to say, 'I told you so.' I should have known better."

This line took Hermione off guard. She said defensively, "Harry, I was not going to say that. I'm a little hurt that you would insinuate-"

Harry did look at her this time, a tiny frown on his face. Hermione thought for a minute. "Okay," she added, "I did ask you last night in a condescending way about trusting a strange wizard. But, in my defense, I didn't know about Sirius Black either when you met him." She paused again. "Harry, I'm sorry if I've said that before to you, or made you feel dumb. You're one of my best friends, and you deserve better than that."

Harry's frown grew, so Hermione stared down at her lap where she had placed her hands. She saw in her periphery vision Harry stand up and move in front of her. When he grabbed the chains of her swing, she raised her head to find him smiling sadly.

"I forgive you, Hermione. Sorry if I made you feel bad, you didn't deserve that."

Feeling her eyes starting to water, she decided to hide them by wrapping her arms around Harry and burying her face into his chest. The two stayed in that position for a few minutes in silence.

"I bought him a wand."

Hermione contemplated for a second, then pulled her head back. "You bought Sirius Black a wand?!" she whisper-yelled incredulously.

Harry winced. "Well, to be fair, I bought Grim a wand, before I knew." He shrugged. "I guess I'll hold onto it, might be useful."

Worrying about starting another argument, Hermione decided to change tact. "Harry, I've been thinking…"

She refrained from rolling her eyes when Harry smiled at her playfully, silently saying "Really? YOU thinking?" and continued on.

"Don't you think it's odd that this man, who is supposedly a mass murderer and broke out of jail to kill you, was able to find you, even had you cornered without your wand, and chose not to kill you?" Hermione raised her eyebrow at the end of her question.

Harry realized that he hadn't thought about that.

Hermione continued. "Furthermore, he brought you to a safe location, had your wand again, and even returned it." Her eyes flickered at Harry's pocket and sighed. "We should have asked Professor McGonagall to check it for any hidden curses while she was here."

"I know. Maybe we can write her and she can-"

Hermione shook her head and interrupted, "No, I don't think we should." Harry gave her a bewildered look, so she elaborated. "Harry, as awkward and weird as it sounds…" She glanced toward the house to make sure her parents weren't outside. "I don't think we should tell her or my parents about Grim."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Why on earth not?"

Hermione said, "There are two reasons. The first is… just a hunch, really. I don't see a reason for Grim, or Sirius Black, to want to harm you now. It doesn't add up why he would help you if he's just going to kill you later. I would be willing to bet that if we wait, he'll show back up and we can find out what's really going on."

Harry pondered on that before finally nodding slowly. "Okay, I can understand that - what was your second reason?"

Hermione blushed. "The second one is kind of selfish - I'm afraid that if we told Professor McGonagall, she'd insist that she take you away from here. I don't know about you, but I've liked having my best friend around during the summer."

Harry blushed himself. He couldn't argue with that point.

* * *

The next ten days passed by quickly. True to his word, Mr. Granger took Harry clothes-shopping the next day. He never saw the bill, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he had paid far less for Hermione's books than the Grangers paid for his new wardrobe. Hermione approved of nearly everything he modeled for her, especially his new suit with a green tie that matched his eyes. Harry would grin occasionally in the house when he recalled how her eyes lit up when he first walked out of the changing area.

He wore the suit the following Thursday when Mr. Granger drove him back to Little Whinging. The solicitor working his case for the Crown Prosecution Services had asked for Harry's testimony in a deposition and agreed to get it before Harry left for "boarding school" as Mr. Granger had described it. If it hadn't been for Hermione holding his hand the entire car ride, Harry most likely would have thrown up before they arrived.

Fortunately, the solicitor had been very kind. When Harry struggled to answer some questions, he patiently waited without prodding him. Harry did manage to get through the entire process without crying, surprising himself. Once the stenographer had left the room, the solicitor loosened up on his professionalism and assured Harry that he would do his best to hammer the "wanker." The mystery of his missing shoes was finally answered as Mr. Granger presented Harry's old wardrobe as evidence in the abuse case.

Throughout the first full week with the Grangers, Harry and Hermione had completed all of their remaining homework and, at her urging, began reading through their third-year books, save for the Monster Book of Monsters. Harry, looking over Hermione's shoulder, found her Arithmancy and Runes books absolutely fascinating. She encouraged him to write to Professor McGonagall and see if he could ask permission to add them to his schedule, which Harry did.

When they weren't studying, the two teenagers spent time in the back garden or at the local park. They were careful in watching for any sight of Grim (as they decided to call Sirius Black in case the Grangers overheard them talking), but the man had been out of sight since he had last borrowed Harry's wand. They did see Padfoot at the park, where they took turns throwing sticks or balls when they could find them. The dog seemed overjoyed for the attention and would walk them back to the house before disappearing. Harry also made a habit of sneaking table scraps out of the house at night. He hardly ever saw Padfoot in the garden, but the scraps would always be gone in the morning when he looked.

Hermione also introduced Harry to reading Muggle fiction when not studying. She was reading through her well worn set of Jane Austen novels when Harry asked if she had something "more interesting" to read. Her playful glare made him fidget a little until she jumped up and ran to her room. She returned with a triumphant smile and a book titled The Hobbit.

"I think you might find this book 'interesting' Harry," she boldly stated. "It has dwarves, elves, a Wizard, and a dragon in it."

Harry gave an unconvinced glance at the book before accepting it. "I'll guess I'll give it a shot then. Are the elves like Dobby?"

She laughed, causing Harry to smile. "I never got to meet Dobby, but I certainly doubt it."

The two spent the rest of the afternoon sitting side by side on the couch reading, Crookshanks taking turns napping in their laps. By the following morning, Harry had finished the book and returned it to Hermione, before sheepishly admitting she was right. "I don't suppose you have any more books like that, do you?"

Her smile was borderline sinister. "I just might have three," she playfully teased before gathering and thrusting The Lord of the Rings into his unexpecting but excited arms.

The Saturday after Harry's deposition, the Grangers insisted that they take a day trip. They first traveled to Portsmouth, where they visited the Historic Dockyard and toured the birthplace of Charles Dickens. Harry, who had only heard of A Christmas Carol because Dudley had watched some cartoon version of it, asked if Hermione had any of his novels at home to read. It turned out that she didn't, so the Grangers purchased several novels in the small gift shop. Harry felt a strong draw to read David Copperfield first.

After the tour, the four made their way to Southsea to the pebble-beach. They had not packed any bathing suits, but Harry and Hermione did slip off their trainers and socks and waded knee-deep out into the water, where the waves splashed into them. It was a brand-new experience that Harry immediately wanted to relive once they got back in the car. On the way home, Mrs. Granger took a snapshot of Hermione and Harry asleep in the back seat, her head on his shoulder, his head on top of hers.

* * *

Harry had decided that this was without a doubt the best summer he had ever had, even with a mass murderer supposedly after him. As much fun as he had at the Burrow with the Weasleys the previous summer, being with Hermione and her family was just… better. The best part about the past two weeks was that Hermione had gotten to where she would hug him at least once a day. They didn't always hold hands while reading or walking, but sometimes they did, and they would always end up sitting next to or leaning on one another. He couldn't explain it, but Harry found comfort and peace in those little moments. Maybe it was because he had received almost no positive physical contact while living at the Dursleys. Or maybe, Harry thought to himself while stealing a glance at Hermione, currently lost in a book, it's because of who I'm touching.

He spent a few nights in the dark lying in bed, wondering about his newfound feelings about Hermione. She was one of his best friends, so clearly he liked her and being around her. But were his feelings towards her just a passing fascination since they were so close and sometimes alone? Did he like like her? Or did he… Harry's heart thumped a little harder... love her?

He wasn't sure what it meant to love someone - the Dursleys never showed much affection or even affinity toward each other. They doted on Dudley all the time, but Harry wouldn't necessarily call that love, especially with how Dudley often responded with cruel or indifferent words.

He thought about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who he got to see for a few weeks the previous summer. They seemed to act nicely toward each other, and occasionally they kissed in greeting, which had seemed weird to him last year. Now, he found the idea of kissing Hermione didn't seem quite that odd...

He wished he had someone to talk to about his feelings, someone who could explain how to work out if he just enjoyed being around Hermione or if he really liked liked her. He thought about writing to Ron, but decided against it. The two boys, as close as they were, never talked about girls at all the last two years. In fact, Ron's only comments about girls were usually about how much of a know-it-all Hermione was. Sometimes he meant it in a nice way - sometimes he didn't.

No, the only person Harry felt like he could talk about his feelings without fear of judgment was the very person he had feelings for. He shook his head before rolling over in bed and closing his eyes. In seconds, he was out cold.

* * *

The day after their impromptu visit to Portsmouth and Southsea, the Grangers had set Harry and Hermione down in the living room for a discussion. Since Harry had shown up at their house, one or both of the Granger parents had always been present with the two teens. In the last week, Mrs. Granger's rule had slowly been relaxed so that they could spend time in each other's room (with the door open, of course). Due to several important upcoming appointments, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had informed Harry and Hermione that they would now be left alone in the house unsupervised. She again emphasized the "no funny business" line to both the teens' embarrassment; Hermione thought to herself she had only said it to watch Harry blush and squirm on the couch, which somehow amused her parents.

For the first three days, their schedule had been very similar to the previous week; the only noticeable difference was that Harry was cooking lunch for the two of them. On Wednesday, Hermione had gone on at breakfast about a type of pastry they had eaten while in France called a beignet. Harry had asked her to explain what it tasted like, then proceeded to prepare and cook some himself without a recipe. They turned out to be so delicious that Hermione insisted that he make another batch for dinner. Her parents were thoroughly impressed - Mr. Granger even slapped Harry on the back and extended an offer to adopt him so he could keep cooking for the family. Just a few days before, Harry would have cringed at the touch. Now, he just laughed and told Mr. Granger he would consider it. Hermione found herself blushing at the thought, though she was unsure why.

It was the next day that things changed.

Hermione had requested that Harry cook stir-fry, so he was at the stove while Hermione sat at the dining table reading Oliver Twist. He had just added the broccoli when a terrifying wail pierced the air. Harry covered his ears before seeing a man on the back porch with a wand. The backdoor slammed into the wall as if it had been kicked. Hermione screamed and ducked under the table as the man raised his wand towards her. Harry felt as if he were watching a movie; despite what he saw in front of him and wanting to react, his limbs seemed frozen and uncooperative.

Suddenly a blur of fur flew in from outside and smashed into the intruder. The man gave out a howl before crashing to the floor, Padfoot immediately on top of him. The sight of the dog snarling and biting the intruder somehow broke Harry's trance. He ran to the table and grabbed Hermione's arm, half dragging her back toward the stove and away from the melee.

A green spell flew in through the open door, which missed Padfoot by inches. Harry, realizing that another wizard was outside, acted impulsively and took hold of the frying pan. As the second intruder entered the kitchen, his attention on Padfoot, Harry ran and swung the pan, hitting the man on the shoulder and launching food across the room. The blow caused the spell to ricochet off a mirror and strike the wall next to the living room, leaving a smoking hole in its wake. Harry took another swing and managed to strike the second intruder hard on the face.

The man screamed in agony and ran out of the house and toward the back garden. He spun and gave Harry a venomous glare before disappearing with a loud crack. Harry found himself strangely satisfied that half the man's face had been burnt from the hot pan.

"Harry! Behind you!" Hermione screamed.

He turned around and found another intruder bent over the first. He reared back to deliver another strike before the man turned to look at him.

It was Grim… Sirius Black. He had his hands over his head and a solemn look on his face.

"You!" Harry roared. He lifted the frying pan over his head.

Before he could begin his downward stroke, Hermione screamed again, "STOP, HARRY!"

He froze, his eyes wide with rage, his nostrils flaring. How could she ask him to stop from hurting - killing - the man who had betrayed his parents?

Hermione came up to him, her eyes wide in fear at Harry's expression. "Harry, p-put the pan down," she stammered.

A thought danced in Harry's mind to ignore her, to go ahead and smash the traitor's brains out. She put her trembling hand on his chest. He locked eyes with her, and through them, he could hear her voice in his head, repeating the words "Trust me. Trust me."

He lowered his arms and dropped the pan on the floor.

Sirius had watched this exchange from his knees without moving a muscle, panting slightly. He opened his mouth to speak when Hermione's wand appeared under his jaw. She had moved so fast, Harry had not even seen her pull it out. Her voice was unsteady but carried weight. "Sirius Black," she said quietly, "you have a lot of explaining to do."

Sirius looked her in the eye and gave the smallest nod possible before glancing toward the table. "Yes, I do. You both deserve that." His eyes flicked to the floor. "Though, we should probably do something about him."

It was then that Harry and Hermione remembered the first intruder, who had not moved for several minutes. Hermione studied him for a few seconds. Then, she said matter-of-factly, as if stating a memorized fact, "Harry, I think he's dead."

Harry moved past Sirius to get a closer look. The intruder's chest was flat and unmoving, his eyes trapped in a last expression of anger. Harry nudged him in the side with his foot. His face was maimed and bloodied after Padfoot's bites, but there was nothing significant enough to cause him to die.

Without being asked, Sirius cleared up the mystery. "Killing Curse. That was the green spell you saw. Leaves no sign of injury, rather quick in effect. You can get struck in the chest or on your pinky toe - same result." His tone was grave, with no hint of humour or sarcasm.

Harry felt as if ice water had been poured into his veins. There was a dead man lying on the floor of Hermione's kitchen. He sucked in his breath as he thought about the second spell bouncing off the mirror - if it had stuck him… if it had struck Hermione…

He fell to the floor as if the morbid thought was a millstone around his neck, his worst fears consuming him. Hermione had to scream his name three times before he registered the sound. He could see that she too was terrified, the arm holding the wand trembling. He found himself shaking as well. With the adrenaline of the attack now past them, they now were feeling the full impact of the situation.

It was Sirius who kept his head and took control of the situation.

"Hermione, do your parents keep any chocolate in the house?" He asked with quiet urgency. "You two are starting to go into shock. You need something to stir your blood sugar."

Hermione was still standing, but even Harry could see she was about to collapse to the floor as he had done. When Hermione didn't respond, Harry spoke up. "No, her parents are dentists. They don't keep many sweet things in the house."

Sirius frowned. "Okay… anything sweet at all? What about honey?"

Harry croaked out, "Yes, they have honey in the pantry." Despite having been still for a minute or more, he was beginning to hyperventilate; a sharp pain was starting to build in his chest and extend towards his arms.

Sirius looked at Hermione in the eyes. Her wand was still pressed into his jaw lightly. He said her name with enough force that she took a tiny step back. "Hermione," he repeated, "I am going to stand up and get the honey. I swear on my magic that I have no intention of harming you or Harry."

She stared at Sirius, though Harry wasn't sure if she actually could see him; she appeared lost in her own thoughts. Finally, she nodded before slumping to her knees, her wand falling from her limp fingers.

Harry watched numbly as Sirius grabbed her wand… and set it on the table.

It took Sirius only a few seconds to return with a jar of honey and two spoons. He forced a heaping spoonful into Harry's mouth before repeating the action with Hermione. Slowly, Harry and Hermione began to calm down. Sirius lifted both of them gingerly off the floor and sat them besides each other at the dining table before taking a seat himself on the opposite side. His eyes darted back and forth between them as they took turns scooping more honey out of the jar.

"All right now, you two?" He asked. They both nodded in response. "Right. You deserve to know the truth, and I have no intentions of hiding anything from you from this point forward." Sirius paused for a moment. "However, I think we need to deal with what just happened first, before your parents come home or in case the Ministry gets word."

"You have two options here - one, I dispose of the body, clean up the magical remnants, and we pretend nothing happened. I personally think that's a terrible idea." Harry glanced at Hermione, who was focused on Sirius. "The second option, you call your parents and tell them what's happened, we contact the Aurors, and you tell them that Padfoot saved your life." Sirius sat back in his chair, his hands palms-down flat on the table. "What do you two think?"

Hermione turned to look at Harry. "We have to go with the second option. There's no feasible way I can pretend to my parents that nothing happened." Harry thought for a few moments before squeezing her hand with his and silently agreeing with another nod.

"Yes, I think you're right."

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, glad we're all in agreement. Next, you have to make sure you tell them what you saw. Did you get a good look at the second attacker?"

Hermione immediately shook her head. Harry squinted, trying to remember the man's face. "He looked vaguely familiar," he said hesitantly, "though I didn't know who he was."

Sirius coughed, then said, "I didn't expect you to know. That's unfortunate though. Once the Ministry gets involved, I guarantee it'll be my name they'll give to the Prophet."

Hermione frowned. "Why would they assume that? Harry may not remember exactly who he saw, but he can definitely say it wasn't you."

"It doesn't matter," Sirius said bitterly. "At the moment, I'm the boogeyman, and they'll use my name to explain anything terrible happening around the country. The fact is, someone else wants you dead, and whoever it is knows that they could have done it and no one would even question them."

Harry shared a concerned look with Hermione, the reality of those words sinking in. He knew, of course, that Lord Voldemort wanted him dead. But could he have ordered the attack, wherever he was? What if it had been someone else?

Sirius continued, his shoulders slumping slightly. "That brings me to the next point. You two cannot tell anyone you saw me."

It was now Harry's turn to frown. "Why not? Padfoot saved us, and then you helped us." Harry squeezed Hermione's hand again as he looked at her. The thought of her getting struck by the Killing Curse made him shudder involuntarily. She smiled weakly back at him and returned the squeeze. He could see her hidden message in her eyes: "Ask him why he's helping us." Harry smiled back faintly before returning his gaze to Sirius, who was observing them with a smirk on his face.

"Grim, Sirius, I mean… Why are you helping us? After what you did to…" Harry choked on his words.

"... To your parents?" Sirius offered. Harry nodded and blinked slowly, trying to not let tears fall from his eyes.

"Pup, I want you to know," Sirius stated slowly, "that not a day has gone by since your parents died that I have not blamed myself for what happened to them." Tears were now glistening in his eyes. "I made a vow to myself in that forsaken prison, that if I ever, ever, got the chance to avenge your parents, I would do it." He finished with a slam of his fist on the table. The sudden noise made Harry and Hermione flinch. Sirius did not seem to notice; his eyes had been on the tabletop in front of him, as if he was only present in body, his mind somewhere else. Crookshanks broke the tension in the room by jumping on the table and rubbing his tail against Sirius's face and licking his hands. The three nervously laughed at the half-kneazle's affection.

"So, Mr. Black-" Hermione began after a few seconds.

"Call me Sirius."

"Okay, Sirius... Professor McGonagall said that you were the Secret Keeper for the Potters. Why did you betray them?"

"I did betray them, Hermione - but I was not the Secret Keeper." Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "That was how I betrayed James and Lily. I convinced them at the last moment to make - to make Peter - their Secret Keeper." Sirius growled out the name, and anger crossed his face. "It was a ruse to keep Voldemort and the Death Eaters at bay. The only ones who knew about it were me, James and Lily, and Peter. It probably would have worked too, if that rat hadn't been a traitor. If I had stayed the Secret Keeper, they never would have found the Potters' home."

Harry's mouth fell open. "So Peter Pettigrew was the one who betrayed my parents? Is that why you killed him in the streets?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm; her face was fearful. Sirius, whose look of anger had only deepened since he had mentioned Peter, caught her expression. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

"That's what Peter wanted everyone to believe. Once Hagrid left your house with you on my motorbike… I went a little mad. I apparated to the street across from his flat. He came running out, screaming my name and accusing me of betraying James and Lily. If I had been thinking straight, I should have seen what was coming next." Sirius's gaze fell to the table, his face forlorn. "That... bastard... used his wand to blow up the street behind us and kill those Muggles, chopped off his finger, and fled down into the sewers."

Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hermione beat him to it. "What do you mean, he fled into the sewers? Wouldn't you have still been able to catch him?"

Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head mournfully. "A man, yes, I could have caught. But a rat?"

Hermione gasped and put her hands over her mouth. Harry thought for a second longer before making the same conclusion. "He was an Animagus?" Harry asked, glad that reading his school books with Hermione had proven to be beneficial.

Sirius, never opening his eyes, nodded. "Yes. He, your dad and I - were all unregistered Animagi."

Hermione's eyes widened further. "So, your form is a Grim?"

Harry looked back and forth between Hermione and Sirius before making the connection. "Padfoot - your form is - Padfoot?"

For the first time since they had begun their conversation, Sirius smiled. "Yes, Harry. It allowed me to keep an eye on you. I'm very thankful for that too." He looked behind him where the dead attacker still lay.

The rest of Sirius's statement weighed in on his mind. Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione spoke:

"My dad was an Animagus?"

"Harry's dad was an Animagus?"

Sirius started laughing as the two of them stared at each other. Then they joined in.

* * *

It was in the next few minutes that Sirius advised them to call Hermione's parents and to contact the Aurors through Hedwig before too much time had elapsed. Hermione worked herself up enough to sound more convincing on the phone that an attack had just occurred at the house. By the time the Grangers had made it home, two Aurors had also arrived. Hermione's mother had instantly pulled her into a massive, tear-filled hug; Harry was caught off guard when she repeated the action with him. The family sat down in the living room while the Aurors stood.

Both the Grangers and Aurors listened intently to Harry and Hermione's explanation of the attack. Following Sirius's advice, they did not mention the ward that had alerted them to the danger. When Harry got to Padfoot saving them from the first attacker, Sirius entered from the kitchen slowly in his animal form. One of the Aurors threw himself against the wall in fright as he saw the grim; it was then that Harry remembered that he was one of the two that Padfoot had scared the night of his escape from the Dursleys. The Auror's reaction went from fright to embarrassment as Crookshanks walked between Padfoot's legs and rubbed himself affectionately against him.

Mr. Granger calmly asked Harry if he was the same dog that he had been feeding scraps to the last few nights. Harry nervously admitted that it was - apparently he had not been as discreet in feeding Padfoot as he thought. The Grangers then both began petting Padfoot and Crookshanks in earnest. Harry had to stifle a laugh, first at Padfoot's expression, then at the stunned looks on the two Aurors' faces.

While Harry and Hermione were finishing their story, a loud crash came from the kitchen, causing everyone to jump and the Aurors to pull their wands. It turned out to be Errol, the Weasley's ancient owl, who had somehow missed the open side of the double back door and flown directly into the other. Harry found himself feeling slightly annoyed at the owl's appearance - he was concerned about letting down his guard and accidentally revealing something about Sirius. So he quickly slipped the letter off the owl's leg and into his pocket to be read later. The Aurors asked a few more questions about the second attacker's identity. Harry did his best to describe the man. As much as he wanted to say "It was definitely not Sirius Black," he knew it would only cause more harm than good.

The Aurors, having finished their interview, repaired the damages to the house with a few wand waves, vanished the dead body back to the Ministry for identification, and departed. The Grangers engulfed both teenagers in tight hugs and sat quietly for a few minutes on the couch. A knock at the front door caused them all to jump again and Padfoot to run to the door, barking ferociously. Mr. Granger cautiously opened it to find a flustered Cornelius Fudge holding his lime-green bowler and two more Aurors. News of the attack had spread quickly at the Ministry, so Fudge had come personally to inform Harry that the DMLE would identify and arrest the remaining fugitive quickly. In the meantime, a rotation of Aurors would be stationed around the clock at the house until Harry and Hermione left for Hogwarts.

After Fudge had left, Hermione had quietly asked her parents if Padfoot (as they had "named" the dog) could stay. Mr. Granger not only immediately said "Yes" but stated that the dog would be fed handsomely for his heroics. This prompted Padfoot to jump up and place his paws on Mr. Granger's chest and licked his face.

* * *

It wasn't until that night that the trauma of the day had finally wormed its way into Harry's mind. Every time he closed his eyes and began to sleep, his dream would transform into a replay of the attack, with the Killing Spell always striking Hermione. After a few hours of attempting (and failing) to sleep, he finally went to the living room where the Grangers had set up a bed for Padfoot. The dog sprung up immediately and sat down in front of Harry, placing his head in his lap. Harry stroked his long ears, finding the action somehow soothing to his nerves.

"Padfoot," Harry asked tentatively, "have you ever… watch someone die?"

Padfoot nodded, a mournful look in his eyes.

"Did it… did you have nightmares afterwards?" Again, the dog nodded. Harry sighed.

"I'm just… I'm just so scared that something might happen to Hermione. If that spell had gone towards her, I'd never forgive myself."

Padfoot climbed up onto the couch and laid his body across Harry's lap. For some reason, the grim's weight settled his mind. As Harry continued to pet Padfoot, he drifted into a fitful sleep sitting up on the couch.

It was still dark outside when Harry woke up. His eyelids felt like they were covered in lead, and his muscles ached from sitting up all night. He still felt a weight in his lap, so without any further thought, he began stroking the grim's hair again with his fingers. It took a few minutes before his mind registered that the coarse fur he had been petting the night before was now much longer and softer. Puzzled, he found the strength to open his eyes.

Sometime during the night, Hermione had come downstairs and taken Padfoot's place on the couch. Fast asleep, she was using his thigh as a pillow, her small form curled up on the couch like a cat. Harry continued petting her hair before noticing the dog sitting on the floor in front of him. Harry saw Padfoot wink at him before he curled up on his makeshift bed, Crookshanks joining him a few seconds later. Too tired to think further, Harry then closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

It had taken a massive amount of effort from Harry and Hermione to convince the Grangers to both go to work the next day. Hermione had to walk over to the disillusioned Auror sitting on the front porch (Sirius had explained yesterday while waiting on the Aurors how the charm left tiny ripples in the air that could be seen if watched carefully) and ask her to remove the charm so they knew someone was on guard. Even then, the Grangers made Harry and Hermione promise not to leave the house or go anywhere without either an Auror or Padfoot.

Once they had left, Harry and Hermione recommended that Sirius take advantage of the shower, to which he quickly agreed. After he had bathed and refreshed himself, Hermione had invited both Harry and Padfoot up to her room, where the grim returned to human form. Sirius's mood had also returned to his more playful manner.

"Lovely room you have here. You could use a few more books though, I think I see an empty space or two on the shelves. Oh, and that unicorn is absolutely lovely!"

Harry grinned broadly when he recognized the same stuffed unicorn he had observed from Hermione's picture in the living room, though he refrained from actually laughing out loud when Hermione glared at him. She went straight to business.

"Sirius, now that we know you're not a risk to us, how can we get your name cleared?"

The man gave a malicious smile. "That's easy. We catch the rat and get him to squeal."

Harry frowned. "How are we supposed to catch the rat? For that matter, how would we even know where to find him?"

Sirius's smile became even more sinister. "I know exactly where he'll be in a few days." From the pocket of his tattered robes, he withdrew a sheet of parchment. He unfolded it and laid it on top of Hermione's bed. Her eyes furrowed. The parchment was a newspaper clipping showing the Weasleys on their vacation in Egypt from a few weeks ago.

"I don't understand-" Hermione began before Harry yelped.

"You mean Peter Pettigrew is Scabbers?!"

Sirius blinked a couple of times. "I don't know who Scabbers is, but I know, without a doubt, that rat there" - he stabbed the image of the rat with his finger - "is Peter in his animagus form. We used to call him Wormtail."

Hermione looked back and forth between Harry and Sirius, a worried look on her face. "It would make sense, I suppose… The missing toe, how the rat belonged to Percy for years before it got passed down to Ron…" She bit on her lower lip in thought. "How can we prove it though?"

"There's a spell that causes Animagi to revert to their human form," Sirius said. "I can show you the wand movement and you can practice it on the train."

Harry then remembered the wand that he bought for Sirius. "Wait here," he said before running from the room. He returned with the box and handed it to Sirius. Sirius looked at the box in his hands before slowly opening it and removing the wand delicately, as if it were made of glass. Harry felt a pang of joy as he watched a single tear roll down Sirius's cheek.

"Harry…" Sirius said before stopping. Without another word, he dropped to his knees and wrapped Harry tightly in a hug. Harry, unsure of what to do, looked to Hermione for guidance. She rolled her eyes with a smile, then pantomimed a hug while gesturing with her head. Harry nodded and awkwardly put his hands around Sirius's back. The two remained in that position for another minute or two.

"Harry." Sirius's voice had regained its raspy quality. "Do you… know… that your parents named me your godfather?"

Harry tensed up. No, Professor McGonagall had not mentioned that when she had shared her story about Sirius.

Sirius backed up enough so that he could see Harry's face while still holding onto him. "If… if we can catch Peter and… I can clear my name…" Sirius took a haggard breath. "... Would you be interested in living with me?"

Harry stood still, shocked and unable to speak. Sirius took this as a negative answer.

"Oh. Well, would you consider letting me-"

"Yes." Harry found his voice. "Yes, Sirius, I would love to live with you."

Sirius and Harry quietly shared a smile before being tackled and squeezed by Hermione. She was openly weeping at the tender moment in front of her.

* * *

On the night of August 31, Harry found himself staring at the ceiling of his room. He had yet to have a restful night's sleep since the attack, but he hadn't made his way to the living room since that first night either. He thought again about how he had found Hermione on the couch and how much better he slept once he knew she was there. He was tempted to go to her room and invite her to join him on the couch one more time. A mini-battle broke out in his mind weighing the pros and cons of such an action. Harry found it odd that it was Hermione's voice he heard in his head arguing to wake her up instead of letting her sleep.

His internal argument was interrupted when the door creaked open. Harry looked up and, to his surprise, saw Hermione in the doorway. She was in her maroon nightshirt and clutching the stuffed unicorn in her arms.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, Hermione. I was already awake."

Hermione hesitated. In the darkness, Harry could just see her face, her bottom lip curled under her teeth.

"... Would you be okay if I… if I sleep with you?" Even with the limited lighting, Harry could see her face reddening, as he knew his own was.

Hermione must have caught her unintended innuendo, for she quickly added, "I mean… could I share the same bed as you? I haven't had a good night's rest since we both ended up on the couch."

Despite his own daydreams of being close to Hermione, Harry was reluctant to agree. "What about your mum's rule, Hermione? I don't want to get you in trouble."

Hermione stood there for a long moment before disappearing back into the hall without a word. Harry waited, confused. Just as he was about to go check on her, Hermione reappeared with a large body pillow as tall as her and shut the door. Harry scooted himself to one side of the full-sized bed as she placed the pillow in the centre. A soft scratching noise made them tense up until Hermione opened the door and Crookshanks trotted in. She gave Harry a shy smile as she pulled back the sheets and slipped under them on the other side of the pillow. She quickly set the alarm clock to go off before her parents were to wake up before laying on her side to face Harry. Crookshanks settled on top of the pillow by their feet almost as if he would be their guard for the night.

Harry, still finding it hard to believe that he was now laying in a bed with Hermione and was supposed to sleep with her, suddenly felt wide awake. Despite it being a cool evening, he could feel sweat beading on his brow, worried that he would somehow ruin their friendship by accident. It was then that he noticed that Hermione's hair had fallen over part of her face. Without thinking, he reached across the body pillow and brushed it behind her ear. Hermione's wan smile grew brighter, clearly visible even in the dark. She grabbed his hand before he could return it to his side of the bed and entwined her fingers in his.

"Thank you, Harry."

"For what?"

"For allowing me to stay... For protecting me last week... For being my best friend."

Harry smiled. "You're welcome. Thank you… for taking care of me. And for being my best friend, too."

Almost as if they were back on the beach, Harry felt a wave of exhaustion overwhelming him. The two friends closed their eyes and had a dreamless, but pleasant, night's rest.

* * *

**A/N: I managed to end a chapter without a cliffhanger...**

**Thanks to Oxen for being an awesome Alpha/Brit picker! I thoroughly enjoyed learning about the southern half of England for their day trip.**

**Fingers crossed that I can have another chapter up before Thanksgiving (November 26)... Thanks again for reading and following!**


	5. A Kiss on the Express

**A/N: Fair warning - this chapter is going to end in a major cliffhanger!**

**Thanks to Oxen, my Alpha and Brit picker, for helping keep me on track. A big thanks also to Maschl and Proton6 for sharing their opinions. All three are writers and members of the HMS Harmony Discord. Come join us at www dot hhriscanonbitches dot com!**

* * *

Harry and Hermione sat quietly in the backseat of Mr. Granger's car, Crookshanks nestled between them in his carrier. The Grangers had insisted with the Auror on duty that they drive the teenagers to the train station instead of using the Floo network. After a slightly heated exchange, the Auror reluctantly agreed . Harry thought to himself that Padfoot growling at the wizard during the discussion was a major factor in his decision to agree, not to mention his hasty departure.

The drive to King's Cross started with some small talk from Hermione's parents, but eventually it devolved into an uneasy silence. For the first time, Harry felt like he was an outsider with the Grangers. The prospect of them not seeing one another for several months, especially with the spectre of the attack last week hanging over their heads, was dampening everyone's spirits.

They had all made their way with their trolleys to the space between Platform 9 and 10 when Mr. Granger placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, can I have a word or two with you?" he asked in a whisper. Harry nodded, and the two moved to one side while Mrs. Granger took Hermione in the opposite direction for their own private chat.

Harry could tell that there was something on Mr. Granger's mind - his face, which normally had a large smile, or at least a small grin, was sober. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he had not slept much the last few days either.

Mr. Granger spent a long moment just staring at Harry. With nearly a foot difference in height, Harry felt like a lab specimen being studied under a microscope. Finally, Mr. Granger spoke.

"Harry, we've thoroughly enjoyed having you at our home this summer. I'll keep you abreast of the proceedings involving your relatives as I'm made aware. If all goes to plan, you may be staying with us again sooner than later, perhaps in a more permanent status." Harry tried to absorb the information without reaction; it still felt too good to be true to be shot of the Dursleys, and he didn't want to get his hopes up prematurely. That also did not seem to be Mr. Granger's primary reason for speaking to him alone.

"Now, as we mentioned when you first arrived, Hermione has told us a lot about you over the last two years." Both males glanced toward Hermione, who seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation with her mother.

When Harry looked back at Mr. Granger, the man had an appraising expression on his face, the same one that he had seen Hermione make a thousand times when weighing a clue for one of their many adventures. That same look coming from Hermione's father made Harry worried. He found the courage to speak up, hoping to ease some of the friction in the air.

"Mr. Granger," Harry said quietly, "I can't thank you and Mrs. Granger enough for taking me in, for buying me clothes, for…" he looked down at his feet. "... For trying to get me away from the Dursleys." Mr. Granger's lips curled slightly in a smile. "I guess, what I'm trying to say," Harry stammered, "is that… if there is something I can… I mean… Is there anything I can do for you?"

The question - or perhaps, Harry's delivery of it - made Mr. Granger chuckle. Then he bent down so that he and Harry were at eye level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "There is something you can do." He stared at Harry, his eyes softly but intensely piercing him. "Please keep Hermione safe. Take care of my girl."

Harry gulped audibly and nodded. "Of course, sir. Always." He then laughed nervously and added, "However, I should let you know that more often than not, she takes care of me."

Mr. Granger laughed, this time more loudly and with genuine humour. "I think I realized that the night you arrived." Then he leaned closer to Harry and lowered his voice to where no one could overhear them. "Just between you and me, if you ask her, I think she will say yes."

Harry tilted his head slightly and blinked a few times, unsure of what Mr. Granger meant. He merely winked at Harry before turning and walking back to their trolleys. Harry remained still for another few seconds trying to wrap his mind around the cryptic comment.

By the time he walked back, Hermione had finished giving her dad a hug and was moving to hug her mother. Harry tried to step away in case the family wanted to have a private moment, but he quickly found Mrs. Granger wrapping her arms around him to give him his own farewell embrace. She whispered in his ear, "Be careful, Harry, and please take care of Hermione."

More confused than ever, Harry felt a nudge from Hermione, who shot a glance toward the hidden portal and back to Harry. He understood that gesture, and began pushing his trolley onto Platform 9 and three-quarters, Hermione following right behind him.

They had arrived at the station nearly an hour before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave. As a result, only a handful of students and parents were in sight. Harry let Hermione lead them onto the last carriage and into the second to last compartment. They lifted the trunks onto the overhead racks together before sitting down together on one of the padded benches. Hermione raised an eyebrow and gave Harry the same appraising look her father had used just a few minutes earlier.

"What did my father want to talk about with you?"

Harry thought for a moment, trying to recall the full conversation. "He told me that he'd let me know about the case with the Dursleys and that I might be staying with you again sooner than later." He stopped, not sure if he should add the last part about the question. Hermione, however, seemed pleased with his answer and did not push for more information.

"Do you want to review those spells Sirius taught us, before anyone else joins us?"

Harry nodded. They stood up, pulled out their wands, and practiced the motion and incantation for the Animagus reversal spell as well as a binding and silencing charm.

Their plan for today was simple: wait until Ron arrived with Scabbers, and then when an opportunity arose, they would quickly cast the spell followed by an Incarcerous to bind Pettigrew. Then they would find a Prefect to report the appearance of a supposedly dead man. It wasn't foolproof, but as Hermione had said when they were making their plans, the simplest solution was almost always the best. Harry had asked if they should have just gone to the Burrow before the start of term and attempted to catch Scabbers there, but Hermione had insisted that it would be too easy for the rat to vanish. There would be only so much room on the train for Pettigrew to elude them - if he could get away at all.

Satisfied with their wandwork with both spells, they put their wands away. Just then, a man looked into the compartment through the door. He looked absolutely exhausted and had several scars across his cheeks and forehead. Harry instinctively stepped in front of Hermione when he saw the stranger, but the man took no notice of either of their faces and continued to the last compartment. They heard the door open and shut.

"Who do you suppose that was?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. He wasn't an Auror, he didn't have red robes." Hermione bit down on her lower lip. "Do you think that could be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Let's hope he's a better teacher than Lockhart or Quirrell."

Hermione scowled. "I seriously doubt he could be any worse than either of them." She climbed up on the bench and reached over her head to open her trunk. When she stepped back down, Harry was surprised to see her holding her stuffed unicorn.

"Have you brought that to Hogwarts before this year? I don't recall seeing him before."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I haven't. This used to be my lovey when I was growing up, helped me fall asleep when I was little. It sort of helped this last week, but…" She was now blushing.

Harry blushed as well, though he was also grinning. They had woken up that morning with her alarm well before their normal rising time, but both admitted that it was the best night's rest either of them had had since before the attack. Still, they had agreed that it would be best for them not to mention spending the night together to anyone, just to be safe.

Harry looked at the unicorn, which was worn but in good shape considering its age. "Does it have a name?" He asked politely.

Hermione squeezed the unicorn closer to her chest and lifted her chin. "For your information," she said in a mock-snooty tone, " _He_ does have a name. It's Corny."

Harry let out a small laugh before he could help himself. "That's a funny name."

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "I was only four when I got him, and my parents suggested I call him that instead of what I originally named him."

"And what was that?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione turned her head toward the window and spoke in a low tone.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"I said his name was Horny!" Hermione repeated much louder. At the exact same time she spoke, the compartment door opened. Neville stood there, looking more nervous than usual. Hermione buried her face into Corny's, but through her hair, Harry could still see one of her ears. It was bright red.

Harry didn't understand why the name "Horny" was so bad for a unicorn, but he decided not to embarrass Hermione any further by asking her to explain why her parents had objected to it. He motioned to Neville to come inside the compartment while Hermione proceeded to hide Corny back in her trunk. The blond Gryffindor brought his trunk in and opened it. He pulled out a stack of newspapers and handed them to Harry.

"Here, I saved these for you," Neville said. "I'm glad to see you're okay, especially since Black almost got you."

Harry shared a confused look with Hermione for several seconds, only to be interrupted by Neville chuckling lightly. "Sorry, it's just funny how you two can carry on a conversation without talking," he explained.

Harry started rifling through the papers, which Neville had stacked in chronological order. When he found the one from the previous Friday, he sat down and held the paper so that he and Hermione could read it together.

**SIRIUS BLACK ATTACK THWARTED BY AURORS**

_The Ministry confirmed that escaped mass murderer Sirius Black attempted to murder the Boy Who Lived at an undisclosed safehouse. Fortunately for Harry Potter, a team of Aurors were on patrol and managed to prevent Black from harming him or any of the other residents of the home. During the brief battle, Black's accomplice, Morton Griggsby, was killed by a stray spell cast by Black himself. Minister Fudge praised the actions of the Aurors…_

Hermione let out a sound of disgust, not bothering to finish the article. "That's not what happened at all! The Minister gave the Prophet a fake story to make themselves look better!"

Harry shook his head angrily. Sirius had been right; the Ministry would make him the villain, regardless of what actually happened.

A loud yowl broke the mood in the room. Hermione opened Crookshanks's carrier and allowed the temporarily forgotten feline out. Neville protectively put his hand on his shirt pocket where Trevor currently was. However, Crookshanks paid neither of them any attention as he curled up on the bench next to Neville, apparently ready to take a nap.

Harry and Hermione took several minutes to look through the other newspapers while waiting for the train's departure. There had been a small mention of a "Muggle Balloon Incident" the day Harry had blown up Aunt Marge, but the next day had the headline " **BOY-WHO-LIVED MISSING** " in nearly double the font size normally used. The next two days led with Harry's disappearance and several theories about his whereabouts that varied from reasonable to borderline absurd. The Prophet also made no qualms about their doubt of Fudge's blanket reassurances that Harry was safe, excoriating the Minister with very colorful language.

The train had blown its final whistle and began lurching forward when Harry picked up the next paper and found his stunned face staring back at him. It was a picture of the forced handshake Fudge had arranged at the Leaky Cauldron on the day of their shopping trip. The article beneath the picture sounded almost as if they had hired a completely different news staff and was filled to the brim with praise for Fudge for his protection of Harry while calling on the DMLE to find Sirius Black swiftly.

Harry turned to ask Hermione a question and forgot it immediately. She was biting her bottom lip and was reading the article with intense focus. Unconsciously, Harry licked his own lips. He lost track of time as he stared at her face. In fact, it felt like time didn't even exist. He took note of every freckle on her cheeks and nose, the colour of her tanned skin… he was so close to her that he even noticed how long her eyelashes were. And her eyes…

Harry froze, wide-eyed with fear. Hermione's eyes were now staring back at him - he wasn't sure how long she had been looking at him. Her mouth was parted slightly as if she had a question of her own on her lips. Had she noticed how long he had been staring at her?

It was then that the door to the compartment opened loudly. Harry jerked his head around so fast that he cricked his neck.

In the doorway stood their other best friend. Ron Weasley was holding the door with one hand, his trunk with the other. It was the sneer on Ron's face that had Harry's attention. It put Draco's dirty looks to shame. Ron cast his eyes angrily from Harry to Hermione to Neville and back to Harry. Without a word, he slammed the door as hard as he could and stomped off to his right. Apparently the presence of the unknown man in the last compartment had tempered Ron's tantrum, for the door closed much more softly than it had opened.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville took turns looking at one another, their mouths ajar in mild surprise.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Hermione finally asked.

Harry shook his head dumbly. He had seen Ron angry before, but _not_ that angry, and _never_ directed toward him or Hermione.

"Um," Neville squeaked before coughing, "it might have had to do with the picture of the three of us."

Harry and Hermione shared a puzzled look while Neville picked up the next paper on the stack and flipped through the pages. When he held it up, both their jaws dropped.

One of the pages was composed of nothing but pictures, but every single one showed Harry and Hermione while on their shopping trip, either holding hands, hugging, or smiling at one another. On the other page, another picture caught the moment where Crookshanks had scared Draco. The picture looped several times with the tiny Harry, Hermione, and Neville laughing raucously each time Draco made his silent scream. The caption under the photo read _Potter had treacle tart ice cream at Fortescue's with Granger and his other best friend, Neville Longbottom_.

Harry then noticed the headline.

**BOY-WHO-LIVED FINDS HIS FIRST LOVE**

_Despite the terror of Sirius Black facing everyone's favorite young hero, it appears that our dear Harry Potter has found comfort in his first relationship. Yesterday, The Boy-Who-Lived was seen gallivanting around Diagon Alley with a charming young lady. It took the Prophet reporters several hours to identify her as Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn witch and fellow Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Considering the horrors that Mr. Potter has faced in his early life, it warms the heart to see his first romance on display as the two shopped for their school supplies. We will strive to share with our readers all the details as they become available._

Harry felt as if he had fallen off his broom and was plummeting to the pitch, his stomach having risen into his throat. Without turning his head, Harry tried to gauge Hermione's reaction to the article and pictures out of the corner of his eye. As far as he could surmise, her look was one of bewilderment. He felt the tiniest bit of relief - at least she hadn't thrown up.

His mouth started to move, though he had not a clue what words were going to come out, when Hermione let out something between a shriek and a curse. "How dare they publish that?!" she screamed.

Harry closed his mouth and his eyes simultaneously. He no longer felt like he was falling - instead, it was like he had been suddenly caught mid-air, and all of his internal organs had continued their descent to his feet.

Hermione snatched the paper out of Neville's hands and began reading the article, her eyebrows tightly knitted together in a scowl. "I'll go talk to Ron," Harry said dully, "and see if I can get him to join us."

Hermione was so engrossed in the paper in her white-knuckled hands that she didn't reply. Feeling inexplicably sad, Harry quietly stepped out of the compartment and turned to his left.

Harry tried to open the door to the last compartment, but it was locked. He glanced in the window and saw Ron sitting in the corner, a piece of parchment in his lap and his History of Magic book beside him. He took one look at Harry and dropped his head back to his parchment. All attempts to gain his attention, including banging on the door, were ignored. There were two other people in the compartment - the strange man that had passed earlier and who was now asleep, the side of his face plastered on the wall; and a blond-haired girl with her face buried in a magazine, who must have passed by their compartment before Ron arrived. Neither of them seemed bothered by or even noticed his knocking.

Frustrated, Harry walked past the compartment where Hermione and Neville were sitting and began wandering the corridor aimlessly. Occasionally, some Gryffindor would greet him, or he would pass a compartment of first-years who would ogle him in doe-eyed wonder. For the most part, though, Harry kept his face down and just kept moving.

Harry was still unsure what his feelings toward Hermione were, but it seemed clear from Hermione's response to the article that she was not interested in him in the way that it had implied. Harry had worried about that possibility during his daydreams, but to have it confirmed so definitively… he sighed as he passed into the next car, Hermione's outburst repeating in his mind as if it were on loop.

Just then, Harry bumped into what felt like an elephant and fell back on his rear. He looked up and, to his dismay, realized it was not an elephant, but the backside of Vincent Crabbe. Draco's head popped around the side of the boy, as if he were looking out from behind a tree trunk. His lips curled up in a wicked grin.

"Oi, Scarhead! You should look where you're going! What if it was Sirius Black you just ran into!"

Crabbe and his counterpart, Gregory Goyle, both started guffawing, though it wasn't clear if it was because they thought Draco was funny or because they had been ordered to do so.

Either way, Draco, emboldened by his goons, stepped around Crabbe and stood in front of Harry, who had just gotten back to his feet. He looked down the hall behind Harry and his grin grew wider. He drawled, "I see your Mudblood and her monster aren't around to protect you this time, Potty! It's a shame, really..."

Thinking quickly, Harry looked past Crabbe and Goyle and smiled as if recognizing someone. "Oh, they are," he said, "but they're behind you."

Draco yanked his head around, apparently still very afraid of Crookshanks. Harry used his distraction to pull out his wand. When Draco turned back and saw Harry armed, he sneered. "You think you're so clever, Potter! It's a wonder you survived that attack without any Aurors protecting you!"

There were now students looking through their doors at the potential altercation in the hall. Realizing that he was now being watched, Draco's eyes flicked from Harry's wand to his face, a dark glint reflected in them. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Know this, Scarhead: you've got a lot more than Sirius Black to worry about. I'd watch my back if I were you."

Harry schooled his features to conceal his emotions. As Draco turned and stalked back down the corridor, Harry suddenly made a mental connection from the last time he had seen Draco's back. He ran back toward the last train carriage. When he arrived, he rushed into the compartment out of breath. Hermione was still sitting, staring at the paper in front of her.

"Hermione!" She looked up at him, worry written on her face.

"The second attacker - I know where I saw him! He was the man with Lucius Malfoy at Diagon Alley!"

* * *

"How dare they publish that?!"

Hermione was furious. She grabbed the paper out of Neville's hand and read the article again. She heard Harry speak, but she was too angry to comprehend what he was saying. How the Wizarding world tolerated unverified gossip as news was beyond her.

After reading the article, Hermione began studying the different pictures of her and Harry. Her anger diminished gradually as she saw her photographed self interacting with Harry's image. Her frown vanished, and a smile began to appear, especially as she looked at the picture of her placing the last book on top of Harry's stack. She turned to ask Harry how he had managed to handle all the books to discover that he was no longer in the compartment. Neville was studying her with nervous curiosity.

"Neville, where did Harry go?" Hermione asked. Even though he was looking at her when she spoke, Neville still jumped slightly at the sound of her voice.

"Um, he said he was going to try and talk to Ron, but then I saw him walk past our compartment toward the front of the train."

Hermione bit her lip again as she glanced back down at the paper, this time at the picture of Harry opening the door for her at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hermione?" She looked at Neville. "I take it that you and Harry _aren't_ together?"

She started to retort angrily "Of course not!", but then Neville's question settled on her, and she was left with her mouth open and no response.

Of course she and Harry weren't _together_ together. After all, they were best friends, and best friends don't date each other… do they?

She thought back through the last few weeks. They had obviously grown closer together during the summer break. She loved the time she had spent with Harry, doing schoolwork, reading books, talking, laughing, playing in the park and the garden. She even loved the time where they just sat quietly. But…

Hermione asked softly, "Why _would_ you think Harry and I are together?"

Neville thought for a second, then shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. It's always been the two of you and Ron since we started at Hogwarts. Honestly, I'm jealous of how close you all are to each other. But even then, you and Harry just have a certain…" Neville seemed unsure of what word to use.

Hermione offered aloud, "Friendship? Partnership?"

"I would say bond, but yeah, those worked too." Neville squinted his eyes and looked toward the left side of the compartment. "The way he acted last year when you were Petrified… It bothered everyone in the house, mind you, but it just felt like he took it harder than anyone, including Ron."

Hermione listened intently, soaking up every word. It never occurred to her to ask how Harry and Ron handled her being Petrified in the hospital wing for weeks. An odd, warm feeling was growing in her stomach.

"And then," Neville went on, "the way you two were acting when I saw you at Fortescue's, even sharing ice cream. I didn't think to ask about you two, it just seemed… right to me."

"Harry doesn't see me like that. I'm just his friend." The words left her mouth before she had time to parse them. Her eyes fluttered down to the paper and locked on the picture of her hugging Harry outside Flourish and Blotts.

"I don't -"

But before Neville could go any farther, the compartment door wrenched open. Harry was there, panic in his eyes. He said Hermione's name, breaking her trance from the paper.

"The second attacker - I know where I saw him! He was the man with Lucius Malfoy at Diagon Alley!"

* * *

For the next hour, Harry and Hermione discussed with Neville about the man that they had seen with Lucius Malfoy and how he had been the second attacker whom Harry had hit with the frying pan. That prompted Neville to ask why Lucius Malfoy might be interested in harming Harry in the first place, so Harry recounted his visit with Dumbledore and Malfoy after the Chamber of Secrets incident. When Harry mentioned freeing Dobby, Neville's eyes grew wide.

"I would bet that's the reason. House elves are very expensive," Neville said. Despite the new concern of Lucius Malfoy to worry about, Hermione gave Harry a beaming smile. This was the first time she had heard about Harry saving Dobby. Harry gave his own lop-sided grin in return, which only seemed to make Hermione's smile brighter.

They then recounted the true version of the attack at Hermione's house to Neville. Harry carefully mentioned how Padfoot had saved them, but not about where the dog had come from, or his human form. While talking, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and held it for minutes at a time, or absently touched his knee. Harry enjoyed the physical contact and temporarily forgot about his melancholy from earlier.

Outside, the weather grew grey and dismal. A constant rain was splashing on the windows. The trolley witch had come and gone, and the three were now sitting in silence contemplation chewing on an assortment of candies and snacks.

The door opened shortly afterwards, and Fred and George Weasley stood at the entrance, identical smirks on their faces. Harry and Hermione both consciously realized that they were holding hands and released them before scooting away from each other on the bench.

"Well, well, well…" said Fred.

"If it isn't the Boy-Who-Lived…" George continued.

"And the Girl-Who-Caught-Him!" They finished together.

Harry and Hermione, who were both blushing and staring at their trainers, said at the same time, "We're not together." They glanced at each other for a moment before returning their gaze to the floor.

Unperturbed, or perhaps encouraged, by the embarrassment they had caused, the twins entered the compartment, their attention still focused on Harry and Hermione. "That's not what the Prophet says." Fred winked at George knowingly. "Of course, we thought it'd be a little longer before you two -"

Hermione interrupted, hoping to change the conversation to something a little less awkward. "How was your trip to Egypt? Bill doing well?" Her voice was chipper, but she glared at George, who seemed quicker on the uptake than Fred.

"It was alright. We got to see the pyramids and mummies."

"And a lot of sand," Fred added. "It gets everywhere - your shoes, your pockets, your -"

"Hang on," George said with a frown. "Didn't Ron send you a letter about our trip? He kept mentioning that he was writing one while we were traveling."

The twins looked at Harry, who stared back at them with a look of confusion. Then Harry's eyes grew wide as he looked at his trunk. Ron's letter! It had arrived during the interview with the Aurors the day of the attack. He had been so focused on not blowing Sirius' cover that he had stuffed it in his pocket and forgotten all about it. He slapped his hand on his forehead and groaned.

"No wonder Ron is so mad at us," he said out loud.

Fred and George shared a bemused look. "What do you mean, 'mad at us'?" George asked. "Speaking of our ickle Ronnikins, where is he?"

When Harry didn't respond, Hermione sighed and held up the feature from the Prophet. Fred and George studied it for a few moments, then laughed out loud together. "I can assure you, Ron could care less about your new relationship," Fred began.

"Let us talk to him, and we'll figure out what's got his shorts in a wad," George finished. "Besides, we have to return something to him. Found him in someone else's compartment."

At that moment, George pulled Scabbers out of his shirt pocket, holding the old rat by the tail. Both Harry and Hermione tensed up at the same time. They had been so distracted by Ron's odd behaviour and Harry's incident with Draco that they had completely forgotten about their mission to catch Scabbers. Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist and squeezed it tightly, causing him to turn his head towards her. Without words, they swiftly improvised a plan.

"I'll take P- Scabbers for you, George," Harry said as he stood up. "Maybe Ron'll talk to me if I return him." Behind him, Hermione quietly pulled out her wand, keeping it close to her leg.

George frowned as he looked at Fred. "Well… if you say so, Harry." He raised his arm toward Harry, who had extended his hand palm-up to receive the rat. For a split-second, Harry could have sworn Scabbers locked eyes with him, causing a chill to run down his spine.

Before George could complete the exchange, a blur of orange fur flew past him with a loud yowl. Crookshanks had woken from his nap and, seeing the rodent dangling in the air, decided to attack. Unfortunately for the feline, George had yanked his arm back, causing Crookshanks to fly face first into Fred's chest and Scabbers to become airbourne. The rat landed near the door of the compartment and scampered out into the hall.

Harry hastily pushed his way past Fred and George, who were attempting to remove a hissing Crookshanks from Fred's jumper. He got into the hall and pointed his wand at the ground where Scabbers had been the moment before. However, instead of a rat, Harry saw Ron's worn trainer. His eyes moved up to see the rest of Ron standing in the hall, Scabbers safely in his hands. Ron was not as angry as he saw him earlier, but he certainly wasn't very happy either.

"What's all the commotion about?" Ron asked gruffly. "I thought I heard Fred and George."

From inside the compartment came the unison response, "You did, little brother!" Fred emerged first, a few threads of his jumper sticking out in large loops from Crookshanks' claws.

"We came to return Scabbers. You should really be more careful with him -"

"- Especially with that saber-toothed tiger of Hermione's," George continued as he stepped out, rubbing a few small scratches on his hand.

It was Hermione who came out next, Crookshanks nuzzled in her arms. Ron's eyes narrowed at the sight of the half-kneazle. He tightened his grip on Scabbers. Harry then realized that Scabbers was still staring at him. He tried to put away his wand inconspicuously, hoping that the transfigured man hadn't figured out their plan.

"Where did you get that - that _monster_?" Ron demanded rudely. "You don't have to tell me when - I'm sure it was on your _date_ in Diagon Alley!" The vitriol in the word _date_ made Harry wince and recoil back. It had the opposite effect on Hermione, who stepped forward, her chin jutted forward.

"For your information, _Ronald_ , I got Crookshanks at Magical Menagerie, but _we_ -" she tilted her head toward Harry, "- were _not_ on a date. I would have told you that in person if you had asked before you slammed the door on us!"

Ron and Hermione stood a foot apart, the animosity almost visible in between them. Scabber was no longer looking at Harry; his beady eyes were locked in fear with Crookshanks. The half-kneazle suddenly flicked his tail, causing Scabbers to squeak in alarm. Ron let out a disgusted sigh before opening his compartment door and stepping back in.

"Whatever you say, Hermione. You better keep that _beast_ away from me and Scabbers!" Without waiting for a response, Ron allowed the door to shut behind him.

Hermione half-moaned, half-growled as she spun in place. Her expression changed rapidly from anger to disappointment as she stared at Harry. The Twins smirked at each other before tipping imaginary hats toward Harry and Hermione and making their way back toward the front of the train. Neville, who had been standing at the door watching, returned to his seat so that Harry and Hermione could do the same. A long silence followed, the only sound being Crookshanks noisily licking his paws while purring in Hermione's lap.

Harry was debating about making up an excuse to wander the train so that he and Hermione could talk privately when Neville spoke up first. "I realize that it's none of my business... but may I ask why you were so intent on getting Scabbers from Fred and George?"

Before he could stop himself, Harry glanced guiltily at Hermione, who had shot him the exact same look. Lamely, he said, "W-what makes you think we were trying to catch Scabbers?"

"We could have just been playing a prank," Hermione added in an unconvincing tone. "For all you know, we were planning to turn Scabbers yellow before we handed him back..." Harry couldn't miss Hermione rolling her eyes as she stopped talking. If he had to guess, the gesture was more at herself than at either of them.

"W-well…" Neville stammered, "I guess I could see that… It's just… the way you looked at Scabbers when George pulled him out. It…" he paused as he stared at Harry. "... It almost looked like you... hated him, or wanted to… k-kill him." Neville glanced at his feet and murmured under his breath. "If you don't want to tell me anything, that's okay."

Harry frowned and bashed his knee with his fist. If Neville had recognized his emotions, surely Scabbers - Pettigrew - had done the same! That would ruin almost any chance of catching him and freeing Sirius.

Hermione pursed her lips tightly before looking at Harry. _Can we tell Neville the truth?_ She asked Harry with her expression, her hand slipping into his.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. As much as he didn't want to tell anyone about Pettigrew, it might be helpful to have someone else in on their plan, especially with Ron more or less not on talking terms with either of them.

He gave her hand a long squeeze. _Yes, we should tell him something at least_.

Hermione nodded her assent, then pulled out her wand and pointed it at the door. " _Muffliato. Colloportus._ "

With the Silencing and Locking Charms in place, Harry turned to Neville, who seemed genuinely surprised. Harry gave him a questioning look.

"I honestly didn't think you'd tell me anything, after… after what happened first year," Neville muttered.

Harry paused - he had forgotten how Neville had attempted to stop them from going after the Philosopher's Stone and ended up Petrified on the common room floor as a result. He gave Hermione a faint smile before returning his gaze to Neville.

"I'm sorry that we treated you like that," he said sheepishly. Hermione nodded her head in agreement with an awkward smile of her own.

Harry pondered for a moment. "Neville, I'm sorry, but we can't really tell you _exactly_ what's going on. We've-" He looked to Hermione, who blinked in response, "already sworn to keep some secrets with… someone else… and it's not our place to share that."

Harry bit his lip before speaking again. "What I will tell you is that… Scabbers isn't actually a rat. He's an Animagus."

It took Neville ten seconds to process this information. When it finally clicked, his jaw dropped. "You mean… that we've -" he gestured back and forth between Harry and himself, "- we've been living with…"

"A man," Hermione finished the statement. "And not just any man - a criminal." She looked back at Harry, worry beginning to crease her face. Harry understood why - it was too late to take back what they had said.

"For our safety, and yours, I might add, that's all we'll say. You can't tell anyone else about it, not even a teacher - it might put… our friend… at risk." Hermione squeezed his hand, giving silent approval of his wording. "We have to catch Scabbers and cast a spell on him to change him back." Harry waited to see if Neville would protest or push for more information. To his amazement, Neville sat up straight and raised his chin slightly. There was still a sense of nervousness behind his eyes, but there was also a look of resolve.

"Okay," Neville said with more courage and conviction in his voice than Harry had ever heard from him before. "I'll help you catch him."

* * *

It was getting dark outside when Harry remembered Ron's letter for the second time. He jumped to his feet without warning, causing Crookshanks to fly off his lap and hiss loudly in anger. Hermione, who was engrossed in one of her textbooks, gave Harry a frown. Ignoring her for the moment, Harry stood on the bench and started digging through his trunk. It took more than a minute for him to locate the pair of trousers containing the crumpled piece of parchment. He sat back down and unrolled it on his lap. It turned out that there was actually more than one sheet rolled tightly together, easily making this the longest letter Ron had ever written to him.

The first page apparently had been written during their trip to Egypt, just as George had said. Ron had talked about some of the locations they visited, along with a detailed account of all the food they had eaten, both good and bad. The spacing on the paragraph and the slight change in penmanship indicated that he may have written a little each day instead of all at once. The second sheet, meanwhile, was much shorter than the first:

_I just saw the issue of the Prophet with you shaking the Minister's hand and all. Lucky you, getting to meet the Minister of Magic and all! And I guess I should congratulate you and Hermione on getting together. I had a feeling it would happen, but not so soon. Since she was with you at Diagon Alley, I'd wager you're staying with her? Better you than me, being raised by Muggles, staying with her parents. I hope they feed you well._

Several lines of text followed that had been scratched out or made illegible. The next sentence made Harry squirm in his seat.

_I know you've already been shopping, but maybe we can still meet up in Diagon Alley next week? It would be great to see you both. I -_

Harry noticed that the quill had sat at the end of the "I" for a long time. A heavy pool of ink had gathered at the bottom, as if Ron wasn't sure what to write next.

_I would hate to lose my best friends because you two decided to start snogging each other all the time. Write me back as quick as you can, otherwise I'll see you on Tuesday!_

_Your friend,_

_Ron_

Harry felt sick to his stomach as he lowered the parchment into his lap.

"Harry? What is it? What did he write?" Hermione fired off the questions in rapid succession. Without looking at her, Harry moved his hand and placed the letter in Hermione's lap. He turned to stare blankly out the window, pretending to concentrate on what little he could see through the rain. Hermione read through the letter quietly, every so often letting out a "hmm."

When Hermione finished reading, she touched Harry lightly on the shoulder, prompting him to turn towards her. He was surprised to see her looking somewhat sad and dejected.

"I think... we should go talk to Ron," she offered softly. Harry sighed and nodded.

Just then, the train began to slow down. Neville glanced back and forth between them. "Are we already there?" he asked, confused.

Hermione looked at her watch and shook her head. "No, not unless the driver was going faster than usual."

The train came to a lurching halt. At the same time, the lights went out in the car. There was a sudden chill in the air as each of them fumbled for their wands. A clattering sound rang as Neville's wand slipped out of his fingers and rolled toward the window.

" _Lumos_!" The tip of Hermione's wand lit up, casting them in an eerie greenish glow. Neville was on his hands and knees next to the window, searching for his missing wand. Harry noticed a sudden chill in the air, making their breath visible.

"What do you think-"

Before Hermione could finish her question, a shadowy figure appeared at the compartment door. With a swishing motion from the figure, the locking charm stopped working. The door opened slowly with a loud creak, and the figure stepped - no - _glided_ in, as if it had no legs.

The cold intensified in the compartment. The figure, which was hooded in a black robe, swept its non-visible gaze over each of them. Harry felt his eyes trying to roll to the back of his head, his heart pounding, his lungs gasping for air. He could hear a woman screaming, though the sound was muffled, as if coming from outside. The tone of her screams made Harry's blood run cold. It was growing louder and louder…

Then the hooded figure made an awful, slow, rattling sound and moved toward Hermione.

Harry immediately sprang to his feet and jumped in front of Hermione, his wand pointed toward the figure. "Stay away from her!" he yelled. The screaming grew softer for a moment, but then the creature leaned toward him.

Harry wanted to cast a spell, wanted to shove it away, wanted to wrap his arms around Hermione and protect her. But he found he could do none of those things. The screaming was now unbearably loud. His limbs grew limp, his breath became ragged, and everything turned white…

* * *

Hermione watched in stunned horror as the figure made a horrible noise and moved toward her. Harry leapt into her field of vision, placing himself directly in front of her. She gasped as the creature leaned forward towards Harry. Everyone in the compartment seemed to have frozen in fear except for the… thing, whatever it was. It wasn't until Hermione saw Harry's arm drop to his side and his wand fall to the floor that she realized that he was in danger. She grabbed Harry around his waist with both arms and pulled him towards her, away from the creature, causing them both to crash into the floor.

A loud, unearthly screech echoed in the cabin.

Then, a white burst of light zoomed in through the door. It somehow corralled the creature, who looked even more terrifying when lit up, and drove it back into the hallway and out of sight. The strange man then stepped in front of the open door, his wand pointed toward the creature, half of his scarred face visible from the reflection of the light. About that time, the lanterns in the compartment began glowing again.

Hermione let loose the breath that she had been holding. She had ended up on top of Harry, who was laying on his back on the floor. When she sat up on her knees and looked down, she let out a shriek.

"Harry!"

For the most part, Harry looked as if he could be sleeping, his eyes shut, his breathing normal. The scar on his forehead, however, was far from normal. It was hardly visible due to the copious amount of blood oozing from it and into his hair. The blood was bright red mixed with a black, almost tar-like, goo.

She heard several footsteps behind her, causing her to glance up. The first face she saw was Neville's, who was still in front of her. His face was pale and stuck in an expression of absolute horror. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Ron, whose expression was almost identical to Neville's. A short, blond-haired girl was leaning on Ron and glancing down at them, no obvious emotion visible. It was when Hermione finally saw the man that she began to panic.

His eyes were wide and staring at Harry's scar. His jaw was set so tight, his teeth might start cracking under the pressure. His scarred face carried the same terrified expression as Neville's and Ron's. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and higher-pitched than expected.

"What… what happened to Harry?"

Neville spoke, sounding as if on the verge of tears. "Harry… Harry's been Kissed!"


	6. Another Kiss on the Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As of January 26, 2021, there will be no further updates on this story. Thank you for reading, and I'm sorry for not finishing it.

**A/N: This will be my last chapter before 2021, though I do plan to work ahead as much as I can. If you're interested in another story (** _**cough cough, shameless plug, cough cough** _ **), I recently finished a Christmas one-shot titled** _**The Ghosts of Christmas Future** _ **, which you can find on FFN and AO3.**

**Thanks to Matteo Caputo for the incredibly awesome new cover art! Thanks also to my Brit Picker/ Beta Oxen and to Maschl for his help, especially with the end of this chapter. If you're not reading their stories, you're missing out!**

**No warning of cliffhangers today… But proceed at your own caution...**

* * *

Harry opened his eyes slowly. Then he closed and opened them again. After repeating the action several times, he finally determined that he was completely surrounded by darkness – there was literally nothing to see. He passed his hand in front of his face, but he couldn't even see his fingers.

The next thing Harry realized was that he was not sitting. Or standing. Or lying. In fact, he could feel nothing of his environment around him. It was as if he were floating in mid-air.

The screaming he had heard before everything went white was no longer present. He was not sure what had happened after the dark, hooded creature came up to him on the train, or how he was now trapped in this strange void. Any attempts to move his body were fruitless. It was impossible to tell how big or how small a space there was around him.

 _This must be a dream_ , Harry thought to himself.

 _Or a nightmare_.

A strange sound broke the silence. Harry turned his head to the right and gasped. Despite the darkness, he was able to see a creature of some sort curled up in the fetal position beside him. It looked like a cross between a small child and a house elf, but its skin was red and charred, like it had been set on fire or cooked alive in a cauldron. The creature's chest rose, and the same sound came from its throat - a labored, guttural breath. Harry found himself disgusted and yet mesmerized at the sight - he could not look away. He hesitantly reached his hand out toward the creature, unsure exactly why he was doing so.

Before he made contact, the creature let out an inhuman shriek before slowly evaporating away like steam from a tea kettle. The time it took for the creature to disappear was maybe a few seconds at most, but Harry was horrified as first the creature's skin, then muscles, then bones disintegrated into thin air. He jerked his hand back toward his own body, suddenly afraid that the same thing might happen to him. Without the creature, everything once again became dark.

There had been times while growing up in the broom cupboard at the Dursleys' that Harry had been afraid of the lack of space in his "room," especially at night. Hermione had taught him in first year the word for that feeling was "claustrophobia." At the moment, Harry felt much more frightened than he ever had growing up. He took several shallow breaths, his teeth rattling in his mouth as he did so. The darkness was oppressive, almost suffocating.

Suddenly, a loud scream rent the air. He turned his head to the left.

He was now standing in a lavatory. It took a split second for Harry to recognize it as the girl's lavatory from Halloween his first year. Another scream drew his attention to the corner of the room. His heart jumped into his throat.

Hermione was cowering in the corner, just as she had been two years before. Harry then saw the troll standing over her, its club raised over its head. Harry tried to move, to run, to distract it from Hermione, but he found himself completely immobilized and voiceless. He watched in horror as the club swung down and struck Hermione violently. Her last scream ceased abruptly as the club crushed her to the ground. Harry felt as if he would vomit at the sight, but he was still unable to move.

The troll then turned toward him. Harry's eyes widened in fear. The troll had Peter Pettigrew's face, the same face he had seen from his parents' photo album. However, the face was also much more ratlike and menacing than the original picture. The Pettigrew troll lifted its lip in a sneer before turning back towards Hermione's broken body.

Another scream caused Harry to look to his right. The scene shifted as he turned his head - now he was in a corridor near the library. He felt immense relief when Hermione - _alive!_ \- came around a corner into sight. The relief ended when he realized she again was the one screaming and running for her life. A moment later, he saw why. Salazar Slytherin's monstrous basilisk slithered into view, clearly stalking Hermione. Harry again tried to warn Hermione as she passed him, to put himself in harm's way, but he found himself frozen once more.

In slow motion, Harry watched Hermione peek behind her as she ran. When her eyes caught the basilisk's, she immediately collapsed to the floor face-first in a heap. Harry wanted to cry out, to run to her, but his voice and legs were still not working. The basilisk, which was even bigger than he remembered, now locked eyes with him. Just like the troll, the basilisk's face had been replaced by Tom Riddle's. Riddle smiled cruelly at Harry before sliding towards Hermione, its mouth opened wide as if ready to feast.

Yet another scream caused Harry to turn his head to the left again. He now found himself in the Grangers' kitchen and knew at once what he would see. No matter how hard he tried, he found himself unable to close his eyes or look away. His heart broke as he watched a green spell strike Hermione, her body dropping to the floor in an instant. The attacker - the same man that Harry had hit with the frying pan - then pulled an absurdly large axe out from behind his back. With a quick, sadistic glance at Harry, the man then swung the axe downward at Hermione's prone body and struck it with a sickening _thud_.

Harry felt hot tears run down his cheeks as more scenes played out in front of him, Hermione perishing over and over again. At one point, he glanced up to try to avoid seeing her latest demise and suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar place.

Large, white wooden posts stood in front of him in a straight line like a fence, slightly taller than he was. Past the post, Harry saw a room full of toys and a bookcase - and a red haired woman. She was looking down, but her sobs and screams filled the room. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. The woman's screams were the same ones he had heard while on the train.

The door to the room opened - actually, it flew off its hinges - and a different dark-hooded figure stepped into the room. The woman turned away from Harry and faced the stranger, pleading with him.

" _Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy..."_

The hooded figure raised his wand and cast the Killing Curse, striking the woman in the chest. As she fell dead to the floor, Harry finally saw who she was - his mother.

The figure stepped toward what Harry now realized was his crib and unhooded himself. The face of Lord Voldemort appeared, triumph reflected in his wicked eyes and smile. Harry tried to reach for his wand, but he found nothing there. It was then he realized that he was just a toddler and not in his normal teenage body.

Voldemort slowly raised his wand at him. Green light shot out of the wand tip and moved toward him at a glacial pace. It did not matter how fast it moved - Harry grimly knew he would not be able to dodge it or even look away.

A burst of white light suddenly flew through the shattered doorway, followed by a second. A third light came up from the floor and met the other two. All three glided in front of Harry's chest and stopped. As the green spell collided with the lights, it ricocheted back toward Voldemort. The dark lord's eyes flashed in fear just for a moment before a brilliant flash of light appeared in the air along with a loud _boom_. Harry could not see for a few seconds.

When the light finally faded, his ears still ringing from the explosion, Harry saw the room was virtually destroyed save for his crib - toys were burning or smoking; the book shelves had fallen over or disappeared entirely; and one of the bedroom walls was completely missing, the cool air filling the room from the outside.

The three white lights were still there, hovering in the air before Harry. As he looked on, the lights moved back and slowly shaped themselves to resemble animals. The first and second were similar - a stag, with huge antlers, and a doe. Both animals towered over Harry. If he had seen such magnificent creatures in real life, he would have been terrified by their sheer size. However, he could sense feelings of comfort, affection… _love_ … coming from them. In fact, he could feel the love almost like a warm breeze upon his skin. The stag and doe lowered their heads and nuzzled them on opposite sides of Harry's face. He smiled involuntarily, though a stray tear or two did escape his eyes. Both deer raised their heads and backed up, allowing Harry to see the third animal.

It was much, much smaller than the stag and doe, with a long, furry body and short legs. The animal was floating in mid-air slightly above Harry's head. As he watched, it suddenly bounced around the room toward the ceiling before tucking its legs into its body. Then, the creature glided through the air as if it were swimming through water. Harry found himself laughing at its playful antics before finally recognizing the animal.

It was an otter.

The otter made several wide loops around the room before stopping inside the crib only a few inches away from him. Harry and the otter stared at each other. He found the animal's brown eyes familiar and entrancing. Without a sound, the otter made a vertical loop in the air before flying directly at his chest, where it vanished without a trace.

Harry felt a warmness radiating throughout his body from where the otter had entered. He had not realized how cold he was until the warmth traveled across and under his skin. When it reached his face, Harry found himself rising vertically out of the crib and through the ceiling. The darkness returned, but Harry could see his body now, for it was literally _glowing_. He looked up as he continued rising and saw a distant light over his head, growing brighter and larger…

* * *

For the second time in four weeks, Hermione stared down at Harry's unconscious face as she knelt near his body. She brushed one hand gently through his hair, as she had done at her parents' home in Crawley. She rested her other hand on top of Harry's cold fingers as they laid on top of his chest. She felt the same confusion she had experienced when Harry had broken down on her many weeks before, but the confusion was now mixed with fear and dread.

After everyone's initial shock had worn down, Professor Lupin - the strange man who had been on the train - had introduced himself and answered Hermione's demands to know what the creature was that had attacked Harry and what Neville meant by "Kissed."

It was a Dementor - a foul, wraithlike creature - that had come onto the train. They primarily lived on the island of Azkaban, where the Ministry employed them as guards at the prison. Neville, Luna, and Ron, as magical children, were already aware of Dementors, though they had - thankfully - never encountered one.

Dementors, Lupin elaborated, were terrible beings that got their sustenance from literally sucking joy and happiness out of people, causing them to relive their worst memories and nightmares. Recalling how awful she felt in their presence, Hermione could only imagine how Harry had felt, especially with the tragedies and hardships he had already faced in his childhood.

Lupin had next explained what Neville meant about being Kissed. Dementors had the terrifying ability to suck the very soul out of human beings, leaving them alive physically but in a persistent vegative state. Ron had turned green at that point and rushed from the room.

Professor Lupin and Neville had moved Harry from the floor and laid him across the bench where Harry and Hermione had been sitting earlier. Hermione removed her jumper, rolled it up, and tucked it under his head as a pillow.

Lupin carefully used a handkerchief to wipe Harry's forehead, cleaning the blood and goo from his scar, before tucking it away in his coat pocket. He pulled back Harry's eyelids and cast _Lumos_ to observe his pupils, which were dilated and unresponsive. After a few moments, he stood up, his face solemn, before conjuring the same silvery creature that had driven the Dementor out of the compartment. It took Hermione a moment to remember Professor McGonagall doing the same thing at her home. Lupin's message was short, but devastating.

"Tell Professor Dumbledore there's been a horrible accident. I am afraid Harry Potter has been Kissed by a Dementor." With his message complete, the figure, which resembled some kind of dog or wolf, shot through the wall of the train in the direction of Hogwarts. Lupin turned and gazed sadly, first at Luna, then Neville, and finally at Hermione. He dropped his head in defeat before stepping to the compartment door. He stopped and turned back once more.

"I'm - I'm going to the driver to tell him what's happened. I'll be back shortly." He paused, his eyes still downcast. "I'm... sorry... that I wasn't able to protect Harry." He moved slowly into the corridor, allowing the door to close behind him on its own.

In the few minutes that had passed, Ron had still not returned from his trip to the lavatory. Neville was sitting in his original seat across from Harry, his round face pale, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. Hermione surmised that he was probably suffering from shock. The blonde girl was now also sitting quietly in the compartment next to Neville, no visible emotion on her face. However, for the most part Hermione ignored both of them as she continued to stroke Harry's hair and hold his hand.

She was somewhat surprised that she was not crying at the moment, or had shed any tears at all. In fact, Hermione realized, for the most part, she felt rather numb and void of any emotions. It may have helped that Harry was still breathing, still present at least physically in the room, and that she was able to hold his hands and touch him. However, the possibility of Harry's soul being taken now felt like a giant, wet, woolen blanket hanging in the air over her head. At any moment, it could come crashing down and smother her.

Yet, even as she looked down at Harry, the train rocking gently beneath them, Hermione was unwilling to give in to despair. He - _they_ \- had been through too much together for him to succumb to such an awful fate.

"You know, he could just be sleeping."

The voice, small and timid, was as loud as a crack of thunder in Hermione's ear. She only managed to not jump up due to her legs being slightly numb from kneeling on the floor. Hermione turned her head to look at the small girl. There was still no discernible expression on her face, but the girl did lock eyes with her.

"I said he could be sleeping. Not sure if you heard me or not," The girl repeated. "My name is Luna, by the way. Luna Lovegood. Some people call me Loony, but I prefer Luna."

It took Hermione a few seconds to respond. "Um, Her- Hermione Granger."

Luna nodded her head before turning to Neville expectantly. Neville, broken from his trance, flicked his eyes back and forth between Hermione and Luna before introducing himself shyly.

For some reason Luna's words started echoing in Hermione's head. _He could be sleeping_. _He could be sleeping_ …

At that moment, Hermione had a vision of one of the Disney movies she and Harry had watched during his stay at her home. _Sleeping Beauty_ was not one of her favorites - personally, she preferred _Beauty and the Beast_ because of Belle's fascination with reading - but the penultimate scene began playing in her mind of Prince Phillip waking Princess Aurora from her enchanted slumber… with a kiss.

She turned back toward Harry. The blood from his scar had finally started to clot. His face was calm, and his eyes were closed. His lips were together and poking out slightly. His appearance was not all that different from Aurora's in the film.

Hermione suddenly found herself intently focused on Harry's lips. She had never previously thought about what lips felt like before, but, in her head, it seemed abundantly obvious that Harry's must be velvety smooth and soft. She ran her tongue over her own lips absently and grimaced - her own lips were not soft at all, but cracked and dry. Hermione was not a tomboy by any means, but she certainly also didn't subscribe to the self-care that most girls did.

_Are you seriously thinking about kissing Harry?_

Hermione started to look back at Luna before realizing the "voice" she heard was her rational conscience speaking. Ever since the first day of Harry's summer visit, Hermione had spent less time listening to the "voice" in her head or tuned it out altogether. However, with Harry currently indisposed, it seemed as if her conscience had returned and would make its opinion loudly known.

Her conscience continued its verbal assault, its voice sounding much like the bossy tone she sometimes used on Harry and Ron, only greatly exaggerated. _You do know that_ Sleeping Beauty _is a fairy tale, a movie, the epitome of fantasy and fiction?_

 _Yes_ , Hermione responded, _but up until I was eleven, so was magic. If wizards and witches are real, why can't kisses awaken someone, or-_

 _You can't be serious!_ The conscience interrupted brusquely. _If that were remotely possible, Professor Lupin would have suggested it! Besides, even if kisses could awake someone, they can't bring back their souls, if they exist at all._

Hermione pondered for a moment.

 _I have to try and help Harry_ , she stated simply. _Since I don't have any other information or options, what other choice do I have, other than to try and kiss him?_

"Yes, I agree."

Hermione was puzzled by her conscience's change in tone and opinion when she saw motion from the corner of her eye. Luna had shifted her position and was now staring at her. Hermione gave her a quizzical look, suddenly connecting the last statement to Luna's gaze.

"Did - did you just read my mind?" Hermione asked nervously.

Luna's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "No. But I can hear the Wrackspurts buzzing around your head. I think you should... proceed with your idea." Luna's eyes flickered toward Harry and back to Hermione, the smallest of head nods following.

 _Wrackspurts? What is that girl talking about?_ The rational conscience asked. _Are you really going to listen to her? No wonder people call her Loony!_

Luna turned toward Neville and grabbed his hand, which was resting on the bench between them. Neville jumped at the touch, but Luna didn't react. "Come Neville, Hermione needs a moment alone with Harry."

"Wha-? Uh-"

Neville had no time to ask questions or protest as Luna promptly stood up, her hand wrapped around his. For her size, she appeared to be surprisingly strong, pulling Neville up and out of his seat and into the corridor. As she shut the door to the compartment, she made eye contact once again with Hermione. A ghost of a smile crossed her face before she turned away.

So now, Hermione found herself on her knees, alone in a compartment with Harry, his face only a few feet away from hers. She sucked in her breath as she once more gazed at Harry's lips. She had to remind herself to exhale after a few seconds. Her palms suddenly felt sweaty, so she let go of Harry's hands and rubbed them on her skirt.

"Right, Hermione," she said out loud to herself. "It's just a kiss. A quick kiss with Harry... It's to try and help him, remember." She closed her eyes and took several more deep breaths to calm her nerves. "Breathe in… Breathe out..."

Feeling just a smidge more relaxed than before, Hermione moved herself closer to Harry. She froze a few inches directly over his mouth. Noticing her hair was now lightly touching Harry's face, she grabbed it with her hands and pulled it to the side. Another few inches down, and then…

She sat back on her knees and let out a long, aggravated sigh, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Like most girls her age, Hermione had wondered what her first kiss might be like, or who it would be with. Never in a thousand years would she have believed that it would be in this situation… or with Harry. Her fingers were starting to shake. What if it doesn't work? What then?

She shook her head and took a deep breath again. _You won't know if it works until you try! Just go for it… On the count of three… one… two..._

On her silent count of "three," Hermione brought her lips down swiftly and placed them over Harry's, barely making contact. After a second, or even less, she pulled back and glanced toward Harry's eyes. They were still shut. As far as she could tell, nothing had happened to Harry at all.

 _What did I tell you? Of course it wouldn't work,_ her conscience stated condescendingly.

Hermione bit down gently on her bottom lip, unsure of what to do next. Once more, she looked down at Harry, her feeling of despair beginning to overwhelm her. Maybe the Dementor had taken his soul after all…

 _Or maybe... you didn't kiss him right_ , Hermione thought. Her mind went back to _Sleeping Beauty_ and the scene of Phillip kissing Aurora. Her heart began beating faster.

"Maybe it can't be just a kiss," Hermione whispered aloud. "It has to be... true love's kiss." She started to nod her head in agreement before freezing, her eyes wide.

_Do I feel that way about Harry?_

That very thought overwhelmed her senses, causing her head to spin. _Of course_ she loved Harry - he was her best friend after all, even more so than Ron. But did she _love_ Harry?

It felt like she pondered it for ages before sighing deeply. _I guess there's only one way to find out. For Harry._

With that, Hermione slowly lowered her head one more time. She closed her eyes and opened her lips slightly as she touched Harry's lips, the contact slightly stronger than before. This time, she felt _something_ happen. A wave of magic seemingly passed from her lips through her entire body. She could feel goosebumps rising on her arms and legs.

Then…

She felt Harry breathe in deeply through his nose.

She pulled her head back a few inches at the change and glanced at Harry's closed eyes. After a few moments, his eyelashes began fluttering. Then, his eyelids slowly slid open to reveal his beautiful emerald green eyes. Hermione let out a loud breath that was between a huff and a sob, her eyes finally starting to water.

Harry stared upward for a long moment before looking at Hermione, her face still only a few inches away. It took a few seconds for him to recognize her, but when he did, a look of concern developed on his face.

"Her- Hermione? Is that you? Are you okay?"

Hermione felt her lips quivering as she stared at him. "Oh, Harry! You ask me if _I'm_ okay? What about you?"

Harry groaned, lifting one hand feebly before dropping it back on his chest. Hermione took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly, waiting for him to speak.

"Yeah, I think so… What happened?"

Before she could respond, the compartment door opened. Hermione jerked her head toward the disruption, Harry lifting his head off the bench a moment later.

Ron was leaning in the doorway, one arm holding the door open, the other placed over his stomach. He was still slightly green in colour, but he also had a surprised and relieved look on his face as he looked at them.

"Harry... You're alive!" Ron turned his head and yelled loudly down the corridor, "Professor Lupin, Harry's okay! He hasn't been Kissed!"

Within seconds, Professor Lupin appeared in the doorway behind Ron. To say that he looked surprised would be similar to calling the Black Lake a puddle of water. The tension seemed to fall from his shoulders, and a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes as his surprise turned into relief. He pushed Ron gently to one side and stepped into the compartment, pulling something from his pocket at the same time.

"Harry," Lupin said tentatively, "it's so good to see you awake. Here, have a bit of this. It'll make you feel better."

Hermione saw that Lupin had a piece of chocolate in his fingers, which he had broken off of a much larger bar. When Harry didn't move, she grabbed the chocolate from Lupin and placed it to Harry's lips so that he could eat it. Harry made eye contact with her, as if embarrassed at being hand fed, but then he took a small bite. Hermione smiled back at him, not caring that his lips brushed her fingers. It was wonderful just to see him looking at her again.

The train started to slow down. Lupin proceeded to hand out more of the chocolate. Once Harry had finished his piece, Hermione took one for herself, noticing she felt almost instantly better after eating. Harry, for the most part, did look better, but he also appeared to be rather weak. He had yet to sit up or move much at all. As much as she wanted to talk to him about what happened, Hermione felt that she should let him rest.

A male voice she had never heard before sounded magically in the compartment. She could also hear the voice echoing in the corridor through the door. "Prefects, there has been a medical emergency on the train. Please keep everyone seated in their compartments until you have been given the all clear to exit."

Before the train came to a complete halt, Lupin bent over and picked up Harry in his arms in one smooth motion. He then swiftly left the compartment and walked down the corridor with Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Luna in hot pursuit.

As they stepped out on the train platform, Hermione noticed that most of the students had ignored the instructions about staying in their compartments. There were many faces pressed against the windows of the train, trying to get a view of the "emergency." She could see several eyes widening and mouths moving behind the glass as the students recognized Harry.

"Hold up, wha's going on here?" rang a deep baritone voice. Hermione instinctively looked up at Hagrid, the gamekeeper, as he walked toward them. "Blimey, is that Harry?"

"There's no time to explain, Hagrid," Lupin said. "Have you seen-"

With a brilliant flash of golden light and flames and a loud _crack_ , Professor Dumbledore appeared on the platform with Fawkes. Hermione couldn't help but gawk at the sight of the beautiful red and orange phoenix sitting on the headmaster's shoulder. However, Dumbledore did not have his usual benevolent smile on his face. Instead, there was a worried look in his eye.

"Remus," Dumbledore spoke softly, "hand Harry to me. Fawkes will take us directly to the infirmary. The rest of you can follow by carriage."

As Lupin carefully transferred Harry into Dumbledore's arms, Hermione spoke up. "Professor Dumbledore, please let me go with you. I can tell you what happened to Harry."

Hermione saw Dumbledore pause for a second, his piercing gaze focusing first on Harry, then her. She was ready to defend her request when the headmaster simply said, "Yes, that will be fine, Miss Granger. Take my elbow and hold on."

As Hermione wrapped her hand around Dumbledore's elbow, she glanced back toward the train and saw three very different things in quick succession.

The first was Ron's face, which had an expression between worry and jealousy. His mouth was open, most likely to argue that he should be going too.

The second was Draco Malfoy, who was now standing on the platform beside Crabbe and Goyle. Clearly, his goons had forced their way past any Prefects trying to stop their exit from the train. Draco bore a cruel smile and an evil glint in his eye as he looked toward Harry. Hermione couldn't help but feel anger toward the Slytherin.

Finally, Hermione noticed a large black dog at the corner of the platform. If she hadn't recognized it as Padfoot, she probably wouldn't have paid attention at all. However, she could tell by his stance that Padfoot - Sirius - knew Harry was in trouble.

Another _crack_ in the air and a rush of flame, and everything around Hermione went black.

* * *

Once they appeared in the infirmary, Dumbledore lowered Harry into his usual bed. Madam Pomfrey came over quickly and waved her wand in several, complex motions while muttering softly to herself. Hermione tensed up and held her breath as she waited for the results. Thankfully, whatever diagnostic spells Pomfrey cast came back as normal - Harry was mainly suffering from magical exhaustion and would recover with some rest and a potion or two.

However, she did warn that her scan indicated something peculiar about Harry's forehead. Harry found the strength to raise his hand to his scar, wincing as he touched the skin. Dumbledore immediately took a closer look at the scar. When he saw the fresh scab, his face blanched and his eyes grew cold and distant.

At Dumbledore's request, Hermione recounted everything that had happened on the train from when the Dementor arrived. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey, and even Harry listened intently without interrupting. As she mentioned the strange scream they heard after she pulled Harry away from the Dementor, she noticed Harry's face turning pale and Dumbledore's eyes growing dark. When she came to the moment before her own kiss, she hesitated, afraid of what the professors and _especially_ what Harry would say.

Fortunately for her, the doors to the infirmary opened. Professor Lupin led Neville, Luna, and Ron into the room and to Harry's bedside. Hermione let out an internal sigh of relief at the distraction. Dumbledore watched silently as Lupin pulled out his handkerchief and showed the messy contents he had wiped from Harry's brow earlier. To her surprise, Dumbledore seemed _happy_ at the sight of the blood and black goo.

"Of course… Of course…" he muttered to himself, his long finger stroking his beard as his smile approached Cheshire cat levels. Without another word, Dumbledore left the infirmary, much to the bewilderment of Lupin, McGonagall, and Pomfrey, who looked back and forth between each other.

For the next few minutes, the four students gathered around Harry's bed, Hermione sitting on the bed to Harry's left, Ron standing at the foot of the bed, and Neville and Luna together on Harry's right. There was a small bit of awkward silence before Harry looked toward Ron.

"Ron, I need to apologize to you," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to ignore your letter. Errol arrived right after the attack at Hermione's house, and-"

"Bloody hell!" Ron interrupted, his face turning white. "If I had known that, I'd… aw, I'm sorry, too." He shuffled his feet before adding, "I just thought since you and Hermione are dating now, you didn't want to be around me anymore."

Hermione opened her mouth to correct Ron, but Harry beat her to it. "We aren't dating, Ron. The Prophet made up that story. If you'd given us a chance, we'd have told you ourselves."

Ron's jaw dropped dramatically. "So… that means... you two aren't…" Hermione watched with amusement as the figurative wheels in Ron's head spun in place. She wasn't sure what conclusion Ron finally made, but he did seem to relax a little. It looked like he had more to say, but Professor McGonagall stepped in.

"Professor Lupin is going to lead you three back to the Great Hall. I believe the feast is about to begin. Madam Pomfrey has assured me that Mister Potter will be able to attend classes tomorrow, but he'll need his rest tonight. Miss Granger, I need to have a private word with you and Potter before you go."

With some reluctance, Neville, Luna, and Ron made their exit. Harry and Hermione exchanged a nervous look, unsure of why McGonagall needed to speak to both of them. Hermione gasped suddenly, then pretended she was yawning before Harry could notice her expression.

 _What if Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey figured out that I kissed Harry?_ Hermione thought. _What would Harry say?_

However, as Madam Pomfrey then stepped into her office, Hermione's worries eased slightly. Surely, if they were going to talk about her kiss and its effect on Harry, the matron would have stayed for the conversation.

"I have good news for both of you," Professor McGonagall stated. "The Ministry has approved your requests to take additional electives this year. I would have owled the two of you sooner, but I only got the official confirmation this afternoon."

McGonagall pulled a small pouch out of her robe pocket. She reached into the pouch and extracted a peculiar gold necklace with an hourglass at the center, which she held carefully before Harry and Hermione.

"This is a time-turner. Their use is closely monitored by the Department of Mysteries, so we had to ask for special permission. It allows you to go back in time for a few hours, depending on how much you spin it, which will allow you to take multiple classes at the same time."

"Because of your academic record, Miss Granger, they granted your request relatively easily." She turned her attention to Harry, a small frown forming on her face. "Mister Potter, I must be frank - while your grades are adequate, they alone would not have allowed you access to take the additional courses. However, the Minister intervened on your behalf, stating that you deserve the opportunity because of your stature, though he does not know the exact method of how you'll be doing so. As we have been granted only one time-turner, you will have to depend on Miss Granger to attend the classes you share."

Whether because he was tired or just confused, Harry took more than a few seconds to parse her meaning. "You mean… I get to take the extra classes… because I'm famous?"

McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "That is correct, Potter. There is a caveat I must place on you - if your grades are not at least acceptable at the start of the Christmas holidays, then I will be forced to remove you from some of your courses. However…" she glanced at Hermione, a shadow of a smile on her lips.

"... With you two sharing the class load together, and your… close relationship... I believe your grades will most certainly be at least acceptable, if not excellent." Hermione blushed at the implied compliment. She felt Harry's hand pass over hers and squeeze her fingers gently. She turned to look at Harry, who was already gazing at her, a sincere, lop-sided grin on his face. For a moment, Hermione felt like they were the only two people in the world.

McGonagall proceeded to explain how the time-turner worked and the precautions that they must take when using it. "You must remember that you cannot be seen in the same place as your past or future selves. It would be wise for you to plan your schedules so that you do not pass through the same corridor at the same time. I am giving you a copy of your timetables tonight so you can get a head start."

Her face turned grave. "It is absolutely imperative that the time-turner remains a secret. Besides myself and our contact at the Department of Mysteries, only Professor Dumbledore is aware that you possess it. You must not tell anyone, even Mister Weasley, of its existence. Do you have any questions?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged another look before shaking their heads in unison. McGonagall's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them. "Now, is there anything you wish to tell me?"

Harry shook his head again immediately. Hermione opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. As much as she wanted to ask, she wasn't ready to admit what she had done to Harry in front of him. Not yet.

"Very well. Miss Granger, if you will follow me, we'll be going straight to the kitchens so that you may have dinner before curfew."

"Actually, Professor," Harry asked timidly, "would it be okay if Hermione stays and eats with me? I'd enjoy her company."

Hermione couldn't keep the smile from creeping across her face, though she didn't notice the small smile McGonagall had on hers.

* * *

In just a few minutes, a large silver tray materialized at the end of Harry's bed. Hermione helped prepare a plate for Harry, and they ate together in amiable silence, with only a few short words passed in conversation. After the events of the day, or really just the past two hours, neither felt the need to be overly verbal.

At different times, Harry would stare longingly at Hermione while she ate, the hallucinations of her many deaths still playing in the back of his head. When he would look down at his plate, it was Hermione's turn to watch Harry, remembering the kiss and the feelings it caused inside her. Neither seemed aware of the other's looks.

Professor McGonagall returned shortly after they finished their meal in order to escort Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower since it was officially past curfew. Hermione stood beside Harry's bed while holding one of his hands. She thought for a moment about kissing Harry before deciding against it. Instead, she leaned over him and hugged him tightly. Harry slowly brought his arms up to touch her back.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered so that only he could hear her.

"I'm so glad _you're_ safe," Harry repeated back just as softly before squeezing her gently.

Hermione pulled back and stared into Harry's eyes. Again, she had an overwhelming impulse to kiss Harry on the lips. Instead, she sighed and leaned forward to kiss Harry on his forehead.

"Good night, Harry. I'll be back first thing in the morning."

Harry, not expecting the kiss, stared dumbly at her, his mouth ajar. "Uh, okay Hermione... Good night."

Hermione turned quickly, finding herself feeling extremely embarrassed for some odd reason. She and Professor McGonagall walked to the door. With one long backwards glance at Harry, Hermione stepped out into the hall.

They were three-quarters of the way to Gryffindor Tower when Hermione finally found the courage to ask her question. "Professor McGonagall…"

McGonagall slowed her pace slightly and turned her head toward Hermione.

"There's one thing I didn't mention… about Harry's incident."

"Oh? What would that be, Miss Granger?"

"Well…" Hermione began blushing. "When I thought Harry was… I mean, when we thought he had been Kissed, I… did something, to try and help him."

At those words, McGonagall came to a halt, one eyebrow raised. "May I ask what that was?"

Hermione averted her eyes downward to avoid the intensity of McGonagall's gaze. "There's a Muggle fairy tale called _Sleeping Beauty_. It's about a princess who is cursed by an evil fairy and…" Without looking up, she could tell McGonagall was about to ask her to get to the point. "Anyhow, the princess ends up in an enchanted sleep that can only be broken… by a kiss."

Hermione could have sworn the entire castle could have heard her talking. It was deathly silent in the corridor, save for the sound of her blood pulsing in her veins.

"Miss Granger, are you trying to tell me that you kissed Mister Potter in hopes that it would bring back his soul, or at least wake him up?" McGonagall's tone was even, with no obvious underlying meaning.

"I- I did, Professor. The thing is, it worked - Harry woke up right after I did it, so… oh, I'm sorry Professor. You must think I'm crazy." Hermione refused to make eye contact with Professor McGonagall. Why on earth did she decide to tell her the truth?

There was a long pause.

"Miss Granger, I cannot say for certain, but I don't believe that magical kisses are common in the Wizarding World, nor that your kiss had anything to do with bringing back Mister Potter's soul, if he truly had been Kissed."

Hermione flinched slightly when a hand touched her shoulder. After another moment of silence, Hermione felt the need to look up. When she did, she found Professor McGonagall with a small, sympathetic smile on her lips.

"I, however, can say for certain that I don't think you are crazy. I, however, do think you should speak directly to Mister Potter about your kiss, and your feelings towards him."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish, though no words came out. A burning question did come to mind, similar to the one she asked before their kiss on the train.

_How_ _**DO** _ _I feel about Harry?_

Hermione remained silent the rest of their walk to Gryffindor Tower. She barely registered Professor McGonagall uttering the password or the portrait hole opening. She passed through the common room and up the stairs leading to the girl's dormitory without looking up, somehow managing to avoid running into anyone or anything.

It wasn't until she had prepared herself for the night and was lying in bed half-asleep in her pajamas, Corny tucked under her arms, Crookshanks snuggled in between her legs, that Hermione finally answered her question.

_Oh my God... I think I'm in love with Harry Potter._

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the second author's note, but I had a reviewer with a question that I feel I need to address (for everyone who does review, I promise I do read and appreciate them, even though I don't always respond!).**

**How will Ron be written in this story?**

**Personally, I'm not the biggest fan of Ron Weasley, for many reasons (for more, visit the HMS Harmony Discord). However, I don't plan on making him a "mustache-twirling villain" (great description by Noir!) nor an exaggerated caricature of his negative attributes. That also doesn't mean that the Golden Trio will remain a tight, cohesive group of friends either, especially when Harmony officially becomes a couple in the upcoming chapters. I'm sorry if that alienates some of you from finishing this story, but I thought I should state my intentions before you get too deep…**

**Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Holidays! Here's to (hoping) 2021 being a** _ **much**_ **better year for all of us!**


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